#fnaf x gender neutral reader

[s0ft-d3cay]

Game Over

Vanny/Vanessa x Gender Neutral Reader | Thought I try something out of my comfort zone. This version of Vanessa is from the game, just fyi.

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence towards reader, reader dies in this one, a knife is swung at reader, no blood or gore mentioned, reader is v smart when it comes to princess quest, Vanessa and reader are co-works, more friends then anything else, Vanny is all bonk and then stabby-stabby.

WC: 1,354

"…just one more time…" The technician uttered beneath their breath, hands at work on the arcade game console. A tune of uncertainty and calming confusion loops over the speaker above, small clicks of footsteps, and the monsters growling as the golden character walked around catacombs of the castle. They’d been playing both Princess Quest One and Two since Vanessa had mentioned a reoccurring glitch in the arcades all over the Pizziaplex. That was until they’d ventured off in a Fazerblast vent and found Princess Quest Three tucked away.

'One heart left…and I just need that damn mask in Foxy’s maze.’

Completely ignoring the nervous itch to stop and question why this room had a bed and a bunch of used pizza boxes on the floor. They couldn’t describe the pull of…curiosity, dread, or guilt? Whatever it was had a hold on them the moment their eyes recognized the title on the arcade game. A chime of success rings out as the chest unlocks in the center of the maze, Foxy hot on the Princess's trail.

‘Come on…come on…’

They repeated, encouraging the small character as she pasts through the red doors, entering back into the pizzeria. They breathed out in relief, a light exhale with a smile appears over their lips. Moving the golden Princess to the prize counter, barley missing an attack from a group of shadowy bunnies. Unlocking the bizarre red box only, leaving them with more questions.

'What am I releasing with this key? The last game had a key similar to this one, leading to an amalgamation of one of those shadow bunny creatures, but that one was unable to move…'

The sound of the door behind them cuts off their words, a chill runs cold in consternation through their veins. Hairs standing up in alarm over their body at the almost silent footsteps stepping from the doorway. Hands trembling on the console, the Princess paused on the screen only a few steps away from the open stage. The door clicks shut as a quick shuffle of what sounds like skipping  caught their attention, head spinning around to see the threat looming over them with a shiny knife.

A person in what looked to be a handmade bunny costume. Fur of white plaid, gray, and even pink stitched together. The person raised the knife as they lunged toward the technician. "If I can’t escape, then you can’t escape…" A glitchy voice manifests through the bunny mask. In shock and instinct, they shift back to the side near the bed in the corner at the last moment, barley missing the knife. Grabbing the blanket from the bed they'd seen earlier, throwing it over the intruder as they ran out the secluded hideout.

A struggled glitched groan was heard in the distance as the technician climbed through the vent, quickly crawling back to Fazerblast. More footsteps of that mystery rabbit following them only pushed them to craw through faster. Their first step inside the winner’s lounge was surely the last, running through the maze's glowing walls to find a place to hide. They needed to finish Princess quest…it was no longer a want to the technician anymore. The technician needed both another way inside that hideout and to get away from that bunny.

Straight back to work the next day, fixing animatronics, upgrading, and teaching new ones; the same cycle over and over again. Their mind blank and elsewhere as they worked. Even with Vanessa's insistent conversation starters that always improved the mood, it still felt off. Perhaps it was the being chased by a bunny mascot with a knife that did it.

"Rough night again?" She asked after a few dry answers from the technician, leaning against a desk across from them. "Something like that…" They replied with a shrug, half occupied with running diagnostics on one of the staff bots from the theater. 

"I don’t remember the last time you were this…quiet." She adds apprehensively, the technician pauses their work to glance in the blonde's direction. The security guard was right, the two would usually have conversations about anything and everything. Even their curiosity of Princess quest, Vanessa was the one to find the princess quest two in the west arcade only a few days after the technician spoke vaguely about the first game.

Their gaze turns sympathetic towards the guard, "Just doing a lot of thinking recently and you know…figuring out that arcade game I found a few weeks back." The blonde woman tilts her head back slightly to consider their words, a glisten of anxiety flashes in her green eyes for a second before she blinks it away.

"Playing on company time again, are we?" She teases, brushing off her distant anxiety. They chuckled, facing the animatronic, finishing up their last few texts of code before allowing the bot to move freely. "Nothing I or you don’t already do on hours, Miss 'I didn’t steal the Glamrock Bonnie figurine’." They derided back, Vanessa smiles as she scoffs at their sarcastic yet truthful words. That anxious long stare was back in her face again, how odd.

The two eventually make their way back to the atrium, the technician relaying what happened the night prior as they walked on the third floor. Customers slowly but surely making their way out of the Pizzaplex, leaving only the remains of lost bags, clothing, prizes, and theme songs playing in the establishment. 

"And they just…disappeared after that?" Vanessa questioned beside them, arms crossed with an expression of concentration. They nodded, eyes flickering over to the guard. "Yeah, no sign of the person on cams or triggering any alarms of braking in. Maybe they've been here when the place closed before." The technician explained.

"Weird…I’ll keep an eye out for it tonight. See you tomorrow." Vanessa waved to them as the two parted from the main entrance. "If I can’t escape, then you can’t escape…" Those words rang through the technician’s brain day, something about the phrase seemed familiar yet foreign. Now walking through the lower basement in the laundry section, concrete walls surrounding him like a cave…almost like the princess. They stopped in their tracks at that thought, like the princess curiosity took refuge within the technician and now they were connecting the dots…

‘What if I’m not releasing something, but instead someone?'

Clocked out and walking back towards the hide out above Fazerblast, their mind continued to make sense of the three games in a cohesive story. 

‘Locking away one being I might have inadvertently released another, maybe one that could even prevent that sluggish shadow bunny from glitching out the game itself.'

That had to be it, why else would the Princess be unlocking doors and lighting grave candles. They had to save the Princess…she was the answer. With new-found excitement, the technician made their way back up to the hide out. The long metal walkway swinging to and fro with each fast step.

The hideout door wide open with Princess quest still untouched from where they’d left off. A smile of determination grows on their face the moment their hands reached the arcade cabinet. The golden princess still waiting at the stage, looking towards the technician.

Walking the Princess through the stage curtain, anticipation gnawing at their excitement for the ending, swiftly moving up the long corridor. Another door in left above, opening to a large area. They walk the princess up to the center of the void room, seeing the outline of a purple, gray, and green cell door on the screen. Their eyes widened at the reveal of the outside of the cell door…

’That can't be…how is she on the otherside-‘

A strike of a blunt object hits the back of their head, falling over the arcade game. Face slamming against the screen, cracking the glass. Pain spread like a lightning bolt through their head, eyelids heavy and vision spotty. Their body trembling and breath thin, head shakily turning as their eyes hazily drift over the rabbit from the other night. Watching the knife in motion towards them as the mask spoke on last time.

"You can’t."

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

[pluck-heartstrings]

This was the most complicated page to do by far. Combining how I understood the Princess Suit functioned with actual functioning diagrams was really tricky, but I’ve fiddled with this enough. I hope this gives y’all a good understanding of how the suit works!

[schmidtkisser]

Showering Together

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.9k

synopsis: mike joins you in the shower after you both had a long day

content: established relationship between you and mike, 2nd person point of view, mike is very touch starved, he struggles with his self esteem but is reassured by your love for him, comfort/fluff (and lots of it), love language: physical touch, you’re both naked obviously but nothing explicit happens

a/n: as mentioned above, fic is strictly comfort/fluff! might be suggestive, but it does not mention genitalia nor is it sexual in nature. also, first time posting here, hi :-)

★彡★彡★彡

Small wisps of steam fill the atmosphere, accompanied by sound of the water pattering against the tiled floor. Your shoulders roll back, relaxing as you feel the smooth rush of water flow over your back. Your stray thoughts wander freely in your mind, reflecting on the different things you did today.

You let out a soft and content huff, smiling to yourself as you think of Abby, the young girl you babysit routinely. You had just finished up your babysitting duties, having tucked her into bed almost an hour ago. The thought of the fun conversations and adventures you shared with her today were memories you couldn’t help but cherish.

Though, your lingering train of thought was interrupted at the sound of the bathroom door handle creaking at a turn.

You grow concerned, making an automatic assumption that it was Abby behind the door. Is she still awake? Perhaps she needs something? You comb back your wet hair with your fingers, droplets clinging to the tips of the strands before you peek your head out from behind the shower curtains.

“Abby?” You call out, your eyes casting a glance at the door. But instead of a 10 year old girl, you make eye contact with her brother (and your boyfriend), Mike, instead.

“Nope. Just me.” He spoke, inviting himself into the bathroom once he saw your face. He let out an amused huff at your immediate assumption that he was Abby. You notice his tired eyes softening as he looks at you, and it makes your heart flutter.

He quietly shuts the door behind him with the heel of his foot. “You been in here long?”

You shake your head, your fingers gently clutching onto the curtain as you give him a smile. “Wanna join me?”

A small blush dusts his cheeks as he gives you a singular nod in response. He starts to undress himself - jutting his shoulders back to push his jacket sleeves off his arms. He takes a hold of his shirt, clutching onto it to pull over his head. He leans a palm against the door, using the other hand to pull his socks off, and then fidgets with the button of his jeans before tugging them off with his boxers. His bare body would shiver at the cold air, if not for the steam accumulating from the warm water.

You carefully watch his movements, feeling a flutter in your stomach every time he removes an article of clothing. You love everything about him. The way his curls became ever so slightly ruffled when he pulled his shirt off. The look of his body, built - yet soft around the edges. You love how particular he is, even for a chore as simple and mundane as stripping off clothes for a shower.

He lazily tosses his clothes into the laundry hamper, making his way over to the shower to join you. He makes eye contact with you again, taking notice of the fact you watched while he undressed. The thought flusters him slightly, but he doesn’t mind it.

“Were you gawking at me the whole time I was taking my clothes off?” Mike asks, humour in his monotone voice as he carefully steps into the shower. He presses a small kiss against your temple once he was under the water with you.

“I couldn’t help it,” you say, your cheeks reddening upon the realisation that he felt your gaze the entire time. “Not when you’re so attractive.”

The comment makes the corner of his lip curl into a warm smile. In your relationship, looks weren’t important. In fact, it was the one thing that mattered the least. But the fact you found someone like him attractive made his mind buzz - especially since he never had the time or energy to maintain a perfect appearance.

He wishes you knew how much such a little compliment meant to him. “I could say the same thing about you.”

A giggle escapes your lips as he bounces the compliment back at you. A moment of silence fills the air as you gaze into each others’ eyes. His brown puppy eyes never fail to make you swoon.

You reach a hand up to his face, his cheek in your palm whilst your thumb gently traced the outline of the dark circles beneath his eyes. His eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your palm, melting in your touch as small droplets of water trickle down his face. He looks so relaxed, something he rarely feels anymore because of work, finances, and other responsibilities. He wishes he could stay in your hold forever, not having to worry about anything anymore.

“Could you,” he murmurs, gradually opening his eyes once more. The bathroom light is almost blinding, he squints slightly before adjusting his sight to you with half-lidded eyes. He feels a rush of embarrassment run through him as he hesitantly finishes his question. “…Wash my back for me?”

You couldn’t help but grin slightly at his request. Of course, it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to wash himself - but the simple ask solidified how much he trusts you, and how comfortable he feels around you. “Of course.”

He averts his gaze from yours, leaning against your palm ever so slightly as he craves more of your touch. You trail your palm down to his shoulders, nudging him gently. Mike nods and faces the shower wall, his back now exposed to you. You take the soap sitting on the shower rack, lathering it between your hands before gently pushing your palms up against his back.

You slide your hands down his skin, carefully brushing past his shoulder blades, the water running over the curves of his back in streams of droplets. You feel the tension in his muscles ease against the mere feeling of your touch.

Your every move was tender and full of love, adoring the shape of your boyfriend. Soap massaged between your hands and his back, washing him thoroughly. You can feel yourself falling deeper in love with him the longer you keep your hands on him.

God, if this isn’t love, you don’t know what is.

You can’t help yourself any longer, moving a little bit closer to him to pepper small kisses up his back, to his shoulder blades, until you reach the nape of his neck. He lets out a soft gasp, melting further into your touch. Your hearts race in sync, and your hands snake around the frame of his body to wash his stomach and chest from behind. Your kisses remain gentle and sweet, your lips exploring the area around his neck as you leave no skin untouched.

The feeling of Mike in your arms, his wet curls against your forehead as you lean against him makes your head feel woozy. He feels the same way. He feels so safe in your grasp, so eased, comfortable, loved. Being so close to you feels like your fragile hearts are going to melt together into one.

Nothing but the rushing sound of the water and your breaths filled the room. Not a single word had been exchanged since you began to wash him. The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it daunting - rather, it was peaceful and calm. Everything feels so, so still.

You repeat this process with his arms and legs too - he didn’t even have to ask. Despite the hard appearance of his arms, the muscle was soft as you squeeze them in your grasp. His eyes soften, watching you as you caress your hands from his shoulders, to his forearm, down to his own hands. Your fingers slowly intertwine with his, your palms pressing together as your heart begins to pick up its pace. You let out a breath, your eyes locking.

The closing gap between you two was subconscious. Before you could even process it, your faces were just inches away from one another, his breath brushing against your skin, almost as if he is teasing you with a kiss. Tilting your head slightly, your eyes flutter shut, finally closing the lingering gap between your lips. It didn’t take Mike long to kiss you back.

Mike hesitantly breaks the handholding. His calloused hands move onto your waist, pulling your body closer to his. You could feel your heart race faster when he travels his hands behind you, sliding them upwards, feeling your wet, naked back as he explores every inch of your soft lips with his own.

Your hands reach his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, exploring the prickled texture of his stubble beneath your fingertips. You want him, and he wants you too.

You pull away momentarily to take a breath, but Mike chases your lips for another kiss. His mouth cupped over yours, cutting your gasp short as he initiated a more intimate exchange. Your tongues meet, and you can feel his slide up against yours, savouring every second, every taste. A groan slipped out from his throat, muffled between your lips. There was no space left between your bodies, the hot shower pouring over you both.

You kiss until you’re left breathless and lightheaded. He rocks you in his arms, careful in his movements to prevent you from slipping. You can’t help but focus on the way he treats you with utmost delicacy - as if he was scared of ever letting you go. It urges you to push yourself closer to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You want to reassure him that you are always here for him, and that he feels it with every kiss, every touch, and every loving exchange you share.

Your methods never fail to leave him so helplessly infatuated with you.

This time, Mike was the one to pull back with a heavy gasp, his lips a little swollen with love. You pant with him, collecting your breath after kissing for minutes on end. Honestly, it only felt like seconds. It was something you and Mike could drag on for hours.

You flutter your eyes open, your foreheads touching as you gaze into his eyes. It almost surprises you to see his eyes glossy with tears, but you don’t say a thing. Your eyes soften, a hand trailing up to comb his wet locks between your fingers. You silently respond to his feelings by pecking the tip of his nose.

Mike’s eyes widen for a brief second from the contact, before breaking into the smallest smile. The rare sight made you feel light, as if you were high up in the skies. Your fingers were well beyond pruned by now, but you sink deeper in his embrace.

He continues to hold you in a cradle, leaning in to rest his chin on the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling of his stubble against your skin, your fingers carefully clutching him in response. He let out a sigh, his chest falling with his breath.

He always felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, or that he didn’t deserve someone like you — yet, you remain in his arms. He holds you closer, your naked bodies pressed against each other. Knowing you are right here, cupped delicately in his arms is a feeling he’ll never take for granted.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N,” he whispers close to your ear, rocking you ever so subtly in his arms. “I love you so much.”

You soften, mirroring his position, resting your cheek against his neck. You smile, even if he couldn’t see it.

“I love you too, Mike.”

[angelyuji]

violent short-tempered yandere type characters

i cant remember where i got this idea. either i saw it on a show or it came to me in a dream.... alsooo im mostly basing this off of rick sanchez cuz im insane and i love my men crazy, smart, and old. im also addicted to rick and morty rn and im praying the next season comes out soon..... anyway

tw // murder, kidnapping, yandere stuff, treating someone like an object/pet (i cant remember the word for it)

they're busy people. they dont have time to date you or stalk u for long periods of time. they’re impatient and short-tempered and generally assholes. they literally saw you once and thought u were the cutest thing ever.

they watched, angrily, as your partner’s hand squeezes your butt. they watched as you giggled, lightly pushing your partner. they knew in one glance that you shouldn't be with your asshole partner. you deserved better. someone smarter, kinder, stronger like themselves. their fists clenched as they pushed past everyone in the way, seeing red. no one is allowed to touch you like that except for them. no one should be able to feel your warmth and see your smile except for them. they finally get close to the two of you and in one quick movement, your partner’s brains had splattered onto the pavement. your scream filled their ears and a sense of peace filled them. they grabbed your arm and the two of you disappeared from view.

you dont even have to meet them. one quick glance from you is all they need. they kill anyone in their path. anyone that poses a threat to you. anyone that even thinks about taking you away from them.

theyre mean to you, but all they want is to keep you safe. to hold you. to keep your love to themselves. they’re so easily jealous.

(like how rick cares abt his family, but he’s still an absolute asshole to them) (rick brainrot guys i need the old fuck NEOW) (i think i just love fictional older men who have committed heinous crimes…) (anyway)

the only time they’d be kind to u is if they feel like you’re pulling away or thinking of escaping. its a lot of hot and cold. you would constantly annoy them. to them, you should be seen, not heard. there when they need comfort, but you need to fuck off otherwise. you’re quite literally their pet. they keep you to entertain them.

definitely: homelander, omni-man, sukana, william afton, ooc rick sanchez

maybe: canon rick sanchez, ooc captain america

[freak-accident419]

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: You and Billy make your endeavor to escape. Then you’re faced with Melinda. But what will even happen after all of this insanity?

Word Count: 3.0k

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, guns, attempted suicide(?), smoking, mentions of death

(A/n: thank you for all the support, thank you all so much for reading!!)

-

“You got it yet?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, yeah, hold on, almost there,” you reply hastily.

After a while, you two decided to find different ways to escape. After your conversations and laughter would die down, you’d realize the dire situation you two were in, getting back on track as you figured Melinda could come in any second now and cause more destruction.

You two came up with the idea of releasing your leg first, which was duct taped to the chair leg, because it was probably the easiest restraint to get out of. Your position was complicated because you were laying on the floor on your side, still stuck to the chair. You shimmied your leg, gradually removing its attachment from your pants, rolling the duct tape into a thin ring that you can slide out from the chair leg.

That was the plan, at least. You weren’t successful yet.

Until you began to see the tape begin to roll in on itself, becoming thinner and more flexible around your leg, unsticking from your pants. “Oh shit!” You gasp in awe, continuing to jerk your leg. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“What? Is it working?” Billy asked, trying to look behind him, but only able to see the back legs of your chair.

“Almost, it—” Your eyes widen as you keeping moving your leg, then tried to scoop the ring of duct tape out of the chair leg, stretching it until…

“Fuck! Yes!” You exclaim in delight, slightly panting from how much energy it took. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You got it out?” He inquired urgently.

Your one leg was entirely free. Sure, it was a small victory, but it was a crucial step in getting out of here alive. “Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “Yeah, I-I did, now what?”

”Okay! Good! Alright. Good job, Y/n,” he says supportively. “Umm… Shit, now what?” He mumbled to himself in frustration.

Your other leg was still duct taped to the chair, but it was against the floor due to your position. There seemed to be no way to do the same thing you had previously done to get your first leg out.

“Um… Fuck…” you muttered.

“Maybe… Maybe we could try to break out of the zip ties. If a lot of force is used, you could potentially break it,” he suggested.

“Wouldn’t that really, like, damage our wrists or something?” You asked anxiously.

“At this point, it doesn’t fucking matter, yeah? As long as we get out of this goddamn chair,” he replied. “We should push our hands out in the opposite direction, one forceful movement by one. At the same time. And just keep repeating it until it hopefully breaks, or something.”

“Okay… Alright…” You agree.

“At the count of three…” he began, “One, two, three—”

You two jolted your wrists in the direction opposite from each other. Nothing happened. At least, not yet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “One, two, three—”

You do the same, quick motion again, using as much force as you could. Nothing yet, but you could almost feel that it was close to breaking.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself. “Alright. One, two, three.”

Another powerful yank, but still nothing.

“Okay, okay, we can do this,” you breathe. “We can do this. One, two, three—”

A snapping noise sounds as the white zip ties break, letting your wrists separate from Billy’s as you two gasp happily in relief.

“Yes! Fuck!”

The entire time, you and Billy were continuing to break out of each restraint. Billy let his single leg loose, and you two attempted to drag yourselves closer to the desk. Finally, you stretched your leg and used your shoe to drag the scissors off the desk, pushing it on the floor to your hands. It was finally in range and you grabbed it, first cutting the tape that withheld your upper arms and torsos, giving you enough reach to cut the other zip tie.

After a few quick moments, once you two felt free of all the restraints, you immediately scampered out from the chair on the floor in opposite directions, picking yourself up until you stood, completely and wholeheartedly free.

You two immediately turned around, looking down at the two chairs on the floor, then finally looking up at each other.

Billy was very attractive.

He was practically the epitome of handsome. Like, he wasn’t the most attractive guy in the entire history of them, but he was strikingly cute. The first thing you noticed was the burn on the side of his face, in which you then remembered he told you that it was Melinda’s doing. He wore a fleece jean jacket and light blue skinny jeans, and a small gold earring. And while you were falling for him as you had conversed, you felt like you were falling even deeper as you saw his soft brown eyes.

There was a bit of silence between you two as you just looked at each other. You had been stuck together for almost an hour, but you had already gained a mutual admiration for each other.

Billy didn’t expect you to be this attractive. Actually, he didn’t really expect anything, and neither did you. But he truly and indefinitely believed that you were beautiful. Probably the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.

He broke the silence by clearing his throat, walking over to you. He wasn’t very tall, but that sort of just added to his charm. He took out his hand. “Thought we should’ve had a proper introduction. I’m Billy.” You could feel his mannerisms be a bit rushed because you were still in the same building of a psychopath.

“I’m Y/n,” you shake his hand quickly.

“Nice shirt.”

“Nice jacket.”

Billy turns around, then looks at the lockers with intrigue. He slowly makes his way towards it, looking at each of the small vaults. As you watched this, your eyes trailed downward, seeing a long, dark green bag on the floor by the wall. Your attention was pulled away from it, however, as he brought his hand inside of one locker, seemingly grabbing something from inside it.

You felt your heart race as you saw the revolver in his hands. It was like he was able to sense your fear, because he tucked it into his pants immediately and walked towards you unthreateningly. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he claims. You nodded softly. You trusted him. Even though you only knew each other for such a short period of time, you two had told each other so much about yourselves. It was a weird shared trauma bond, that made you wish you met on different circumstances.

“How are your wrists?” He asks gently.

You present them to him. “They’re okay,” you answered. He took your hands into his, observing the faint bruise along the wrist that you broke out the zip tie with. His fingertips were soft on your skin, the brief contact making your face heat up, almost. You then move your hands under his to see the small indents on his wrists caused by the zip ties, rubbing over it softly with your thumb. You two look up at each other and chuckle softly, looking back down and coyly smiling to yourselves.

“We should—we should go,” you say after a while.

“Right. Yeah,” Billy says, letting go of each other’s hands then cautiously looking at the desolate, white door that would lead into the store. Before you could take another step towards it, it slowly opened by itself.

And Melinda her-fucking-self was behind it.

She had a look of shock on her face, as she didn’t expect to come back to her captives being free. Immediately, Billy took out his gun, pointing it at her, making her involuntary raise her hands up in surrender, placing his other arm in front of you, letting you stay behind him.

There was fear in Melinda’s watery eyes. She let out small sniffles as she looked at the barrel of the gun, then at you and Billy.

“I-I didn’t mean for all of this to happen,” she stammered, voice cracking and tears gradually falling down. “You… You can take the money and go, it’s-it’s all there.”

You wondered what was wrong with her. What exactly drove her to do all this stuff. How she never called the cops on Billy and instead tie him up. How she tied you up because you witnessed it.

“This didn’t have to be complicated, Melinda,” Billy says sternly, a look of hatred and disgust towards her.

“I-I know,” she whispered.

“And… and you brought them into this for no reason too! They were fucking innocent, and you just had to bring them into this! I mean, I get that you would tie me up, I robbed you, but Y/n? Innocent.” He asserted. “You made me kill somebody, Melinda. I am not a killer, but you… you made me kill Sheila. You fucking made me kill somebody.”

“No, I- I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please. You can just go. I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. The money is on the floor. Behind the counter. Just leave me alone, please,” she pleaded, continuing to cry. She then looked at you. “I’m sorry-I’m sorry I tied you up too, I was scared that you’d get the police.”

You sighed heavily and looked at Billy, relying on him for direction. But she continued on, making you look back at her again.

“I—I’m going to burn this whole place down.” She claimed. “I’ve covered the entire store in gasoline, just leave while you still can, p-please.”

“Why the fuck should I believe anything you say?” There was hostility in his voice. “Walk.” He ordered, waving the gun around, gesturing for her to walk back into the store.

Billy walks towards her as she goes backwards, with you following him. The neon blue lights of the store caressed your skin as you passed the door, completely leaving the employees only back room and being met with short aisles, composed of shelves filled with candy and chips.

“The money, it’s back there,” she pointed as you were now all in the center of the store. He looked at her with suspicion, slowly making his way to the front counter. You followed behind him, leaving Melinda with her hands up as Billy seemed to have found it, grabbing a black backpack and swinging it over his shoulders. Then, you two turned around to see Melinda, except…

She looked at you two with bloodshot, sad eyes, and an ignited lighter in her right hand. Shit. You looked down, and it appears she wasn’t lying, because gasoline coated the bottom of your shoes. “Okay, good, you can… you can have the money, just… just leave me now, please,” she begged.

“Wait. Let’s just… We can get you help, okay?” You offered, feeling a bit of sympathy for her. You knew she wasn’t exactly right in the head.

“Y/n, no,” Billy warned, looking at you sternly. “I honestly love how you continue to prove to me how much of a good heart you have, but Melinda? She is fucking crazy.”

“That’s why we should, I don’t know, get the cops, get her to a hospital—“

“Y/n. You don’t know what she’s done. Plus, we cannot get the cops involved. What are we gonna tell them, huh? What, are we gonna mention the fact that I was trying to rob the place? That it was my gun that fucking killed Sheila?” He stammered, which ultimately saddened you. “This woman is beyond redemption, okay?”

“So what? What, are we just going to watch her set herself on fire? Yeah? You’re really going to be okay with that?”

“Y/n, please. I don’t want to argue with you. It’s us or her. Do you see the goddamn lighter in her hand? She’s going to drop it any second and she is not going to wait for us, so we have to go. Okay?” He urged, grabbing onto your shoulder and leading you two to the backdoor, still pointing his gun at Sheila.

“Billy, wait,” you plead. “What if she’s just bluffing?”

“And risk catching on fucking fire, huh? We have no fucking time, let’s go!” He exclaimed, leading you out to the backdoor, your eyes meeting with Melinda before you were abruptly shoved outside.

It was freezing. Every exhale you took was visible in the cold air.

Billy closed the back door, moving the dumpster to block the exit. You two stood outside, a few feet away from the building, waiting for it to be set in flames. But it wasn’t. So either Melinda was truthfully bluffing or changed her mind. But you felt grateful, because you would’ve felt guilty if she hadn’t.

You took out a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, grabbing one from it, placing it between your lips and taking out a lighter from your other pocket. As you first exhale, you watch the back of the building. Nothing going on at all.

You weren’t sure what would happen after this. If Melinda would go to the police. If Billy would get caught and/or pay back his debt with the bikers. And what would you do?

You turn your head to look at Billy.

“May I…?” He trailed off, gesturing to the cigarette in between your fingers.

You chuckle under your breath then handed him it, watching him place it in his mouth and taking a drag. It was kind of silent. And it was still cold.

“Are you gonna go pay off your debt now?” You ask him softly.

You watched the smoke escape his lips as he nods. “Yeah. Then I’ll just… get the hell out of this fucking place…”

There was another moment of silence. An uncomfortable, uncertain silence.

“Will I… Will I ever see you again?” You ask hesitantly as he hands you back your cigarette.

He gives a low chuckle, offering you a gentle smile. “You’d really want to see me again?”

You hummed softly. “I feel like it’d be nice…” You say quietly. “Maybe when I’ll be getting gas again, you’re there to rob the store.”

He scoffed. “Y/n—“

“I’m messing with you,” you let out a small laugh. He smiles at you. You felt comfortable now. And you shouldn’t have been, because it was fucking freezing, but as cliché as it was, he was warming your heart.

He looked into your eyes deeply, which drove you to observe his soft face. You couldn’t exactly describe what his facial expression was or meant at this moment—until he expressed it with his words:

“Come with me, Y/n. Please.”

It was urgency. It was a look of urgency and desperation.

“I’ll pay off the biker assholes and then—then I’ll pick you up and we can leave together. Come on. How does that sound?”

“Billy, I—“ You were shocked. You didn’t want to throw your whole life out in this way. You were very fond of Billy, you could swear it, but this was too much. “I can’t, I… It’s just too… too crazy.”

“I-I understand. Completely. But fuck, I… I don’t want to lose you…”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You felt bad. You didn’t want to lose him either. Goddamnit, why did he have to be a damn fugitive?

“Somebody’s gonna have to work cashier number five for Macy’s, Billy,” you joke softly. You put out the cigarette on the snow and grabbed his hand. It was comfortable in yours, fingers fidgeting with each other, rubbing the skin tenderly. You rubbed your thumb over the gold ring that embraced his index finger, in which the metal was warm against your skin. “If we were in… another circumstance, maybe I would. But… I can’t just throw my life away like this. While you’d be starting anew, I’d be discarding everything I’ve ever known. I can’t sacrifice that for you.”

He nodded, staring at his hand in yours. He wouldn’t have thought you would have agreed anyway. He just had so much hope. Like his goddamn Marlboro, he wanted more of you. “Right… Okay, I understand,” he reckons dejectedly.

“I’m sorry,” you say warmly as you watch his thumb move across the back of your hand. You look back up at him.

“It’s okay,” he replies gently. “I hope I’ll see you again, Y/n.”

“Me too,” you add.

“Goodbye, Y/n. Thanks for… for getting us out of that shit hole. And… being a good person.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Give yourself some credit, dude. We escaped together. It was a team effort. And also… I think you’re genuinely a good person too. You were just… faced with unlucky predicaments.”

He grins appreciatively, letting out a small chuckle. He looked down at your hands that were in his, then back at you. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Billy,” you felt the warmth of his hands leave yours, making his way back to the front of the gas station to get to his car, leaving you there to stand alone in the cold…

*** A Few Weeks Later ***

If you had to do a rundown of everything that had happened ever since, then it would be simple—you got away with all of it. Melinda must have had permanently discarded all of the camera footage before police could get it. But as seen in the news, she was arrested for accessory to murder, then hospitalized from signs of mental illness. It seemed that she didn’t reveal much and ended up lying, because you never saw Billy’s face or information on any wanted posters.

Now you were at your job, working as a cashier, handing a woman her receipt after she paid for her items. She then left with her bags after chirping an expression of gratitude. Your head remains downward, sort of dispirited and not in the mood today. “Welcome, did you find everything alright?” You enunciate in monotone, yet with a slight endeavored cheerful tone, as you saw the figure of the new customer in your peripheral vision. You grabbed the single item that the customer placed on the counter and scanned it sluggishly.

However, you finally paid attention to your surroundings and realized what the purchase was: a Kentucky Wildcats cap. You let a sharp inhale, as the sports team only reminded you of…

You look up to see the customer standing in front of you. Your eyes widen as your breathing stopped.

You really couldn’t believe your eyes.

There was a smirk on his face as you felt a blissful smile begin to tug on your lips.

“‘Go Wildcats,’ am I right?” Billy recites.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Listen. A little baby gives you a title? That’s your crown to wear now. You Are Ba-Ba Now. Sorry I don’t make the rules

(Aka, Free Baby Saga 2.0: where Pirate-Eclipse and Seamonster-Y/N have to an unexpected adoption of a baby selkie and are somehow The Best Parents ever! Bc I said so <3 )

[yobi-thecreator]

Meeting Mike Schmidt for the first time HC

You guys either met When he used to work at the mall or you getting hired as Abby's babysitter

If you guys met at the mall you probably worked as a store attendant

One day you were working at the cash registers and a customer started to complain and harass you because you couldn't give them a discount for a product that they wanted.

Mike making his rounds of the mall ended up seeing that and decided to go a see that was going on.

when he did go see what was happening and you saw him you told the (Karen) customer kindly "Would you like to talk to the manager? Or have the friendly security here to escort you out?" He was standing behind the person.

The person ended up getting kicked out of the mall.

Ever since then Mike goes to visit you during his lunch break.

During his lunch Break Mike would go to the ice cream store/place and order his usual as well as whatever you like.

His usual ended up becoming what he always got and what you always wanted or got.

Before you and him got together Mike would always stare at you when you were working, either you would be putting things on shelves, hooks, or even just helping a customer he would stare.

Every once in awhile you would catch him staring and he would look and walk away as if he didn't just stare at you for a few (5-10) minutes.

Guys this is my first time ever writing anything so my bad if it's bad 😭

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Hey I love your work so much!!

I was thinking of maybe a Mike Schmidt x reader where the reader is all like “I’m not good enough for you, I don’t deserve you” stuff and then like Mike makes it up to the reader to show them that they are more than enough 🫶

Sure, but it's gonna hurt!

Blue Sunrise

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: All is well, yet you aren't. A fact that disturbs and irritates you so, even if it shouldn't.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns for Reader, SFW with brief mentions of smut, pre-established relationship, set during the movie but that's honestly not very relevant, hurt/comfort, Reader and Mike both have PTSD, this isn't projection, bed rotting, depression, self-loathing, night terrors/nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, mentions of medication, lack of self care, slight self-harm (scratching), breakdown, nosebleed.

Notes: *in sonic snapcube dub voice* heyyyyyyyyyyyy what's upppppppppppppp it's meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (STOP!!)

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

6:34 A.M.

The dawn is gentle, the sky a soft blue behind the thin, cheap blinds that cover the bedroom window not that far in front of me. If I wanted, I could get up and open the window, revealing the surely beautiful and gorgeous sunrise that waits for me just outside the blinds.

But I don't. And I won't.

Birds sing gently outside, waking up and fliting about here and there. It's my favorite part of the day, quite frankly. When I can, I open the window to allow in the fresh, cool air, moist with the morning dew, unmuffling the bird's songs as I drift off to sleep, my schedule mostly in tune with Mike's for his night shift. Sometimes I manage to stay awake to greet him when he returns home. It's always nice when I do. His smile is lazy, his strides long and slow as he makes his way to the bed, peeling off his work clothes and crawling under the covers with me. Sometimes he'll press himself against me, his lips finding my neck as his hand dives between my thighs, his fingers trained on one goal as he murmurs against my skin how much he's missed me. Sometimes I wake to this.

There's a part of me that wishes he'd do this today just so I wouldn't have to think.

The lock on the front door rattles as someone attempts to insert a key into the hole. It doesn't matter how long he's lived here or how he uses those keys every morning, he still takes a moment to make sure he's using the right one, and on the first try he usually isn't. So it takes him a solid minute to unlock the door and enter the house. If we had dogs, they'd surely drive us insane from his routine. It slightly drives me insane already. But I'm technically not even supposed to be awake, so I never mention it.

When Mike finally enters the house, the first thing I hear after the satisfying break of the doors seal ringing throughout the living room is a deep sigh as Mike's backpack lands in front of the coat rack. He should be quieter about setting it down. I would be. But I think he assumes we should be so deep in sleep it really wouldn't matter, and it honestly doesn't make much noise. Just a slightly dull 'thud' against the thinly carpeted floor.

Next I can hear his car keys land in the bowl they're meant for. Again, he's a bit too loud with it all. At least, while people are sleeping. But it's not really a bother. In a way, I like it. It gives me a routine to memorize, his sounds before he'll trail to our room and come press himself against me.

The rocking recliner creeks softly as he sits in it, lazily undoing the laces on his boots before he tosses them towards the coat rack. And next he'll duck his head into the fridge I'm sure and look for the leftovers I put into a big bowl for him to warm up - which he won't, because he's a psychopath who likes cold food. - and then when my alarm goes off, he'll come to wake me up, rising from the old couch where he's very quietly reading his book while he eats and do whatever he has to do to prevent me from slipping back into sleep. He's very good at that job. Especially when he uses his tongue.

But today there's a break in the routine. Today, his footsteps are padding towards our room, the door quietly opening as he slips in. I can hear him let out a soft sigh as he tugs on his hoodie, pulling it off and then discarding of his jeans, which muffle the clack of his belt buckle as he slips them off. Left in his undershirt and boxers, he crosses the room to open the blinds and the window, letting in the fresh air and leaning against the thin windowstill for a moment. Now, I can see him.

He looks rested, a little more than he should for having just finished a night shift. I keep telling him he's going to get fired, but he always wiggles his way out of that conversation. The bags usually under his eyes aren't too deep this morning, which while problematic is relieving. His skin is pale blue from the dawns light that pours into the room. His dark curls are more thick on the top of his head, clumped together from him not brushing them after his shower. He must've used too much conditioner, because his hair also looks thicker than it usually does. The breeze blows his oversized pale blue shirt against his chest as he leans forward, allowing his eyes to close as he takes in a deep breath. It feels like an overly private moment. Like I've intruded by watching him. I don't see him like this much when he isn't alone. When he's with me or Abby, he's alert. Somewhat on guard. It's like he's watching us to make sure we're okay. He's too used to things falling apart in an instant. But when he's alone, physically or emotionally, the walls crumble away to reveal a man who enjoys peace. Who smiles softly as he bends down low, resting his chin upon his arms, letting the dawn greet him and being the supposed first in the house to greet the dawn. And I feel like a stalker for watching him. A scene that feels as if I've stolen what will now only exist deep in my mind for when I want to remember one of the few times he has truly ever looked at peace with the world. It's a scene out of a painting. As private as a prayer. I should grant him more privacy, but I don't. In a captivated and enchanted way, I can't.

I'd never tell him this, but in this moment he looks like his mother. And not in the sense of him being her son. No, based off of the few photos I've seen of her in more private, intimate instances, like when she was holding a very small Mike on her lap on his second birthday, or when Mike's father had stolen a photo during their honeymoon when she wasn't looking, Mike looks just like her. Quiet, serene, not hiding anything from anyone because there's no need. At this moment it is just him and the gentle, late winter breeze that makes my nose begin to sting. He's beautiful. Just like she was.

The moment comes to an end, and now it is just a moment that exists only within my mind as his eyes open. The blue dawn brings out the green in his eyes that's usually hidden by artificial light that overpowers the amber, turning them mostly black in some instances. That's the color I thought they were until I saw him in proper daylight. His long lashes bat once, twice in an almost sleepy manner as he shifts his focus, now turning his head to look at me. I shut my eyes quickly, my canines biting into my tongue to force myself to keep a straight face. But it's too late. We made eye contact, even if it was only for a second, and now he knows I'm awake.

"Sweetheart?" He whispers softly, his voice low and slightly gravelly in the way it always is. His 's' and 't's just a tad sharp, clear as always when he speaks. I hear the floor groan as he pads towards me.

I don't speak. I'm not supposed to be awake. I should be asleep, he would rather I was asleep. I tried to be asleep.

He stops in front of me, I can hear the floor groan louder as he crouches in front of me. He's trying to decide if I'm awake or not, if maybe he'd been tricked into thinking we made eye contact. But something convinces him he hasn't, and the bed sinks as he places a hand upon the mattress to support his weight while he kisses my temple.

"Hi," he whispers against my skin, placing another kiss just above the curve of my brow. "Good morning." He places another kiss on the space between my brows, his lips now trailing up to the middle of my forehead. "You look so pretty like this."

Like what? My skin shining with oil, my nose dirty, my body heavy from not having moved?

Something makes him pause when his lips find my cheek. He keeps his lips pressed against my skin for a moment before he pulls away, licking his lips as he looks closer at me.

"Hey," he whispers softly, a finger finding my chin. "Open your eyes."

I don't want to. When I do he'll instantly know what I've been doing, and I don't want to handle it. I don't want to deal with it.

His hand slips under my head, between my cheek and my pillow.

"Sweetheart, your pillow's wet," he says in quiet surprise. "Open your eyes, talk to me."

Hesitatingly, I obey. Cracking my eyes open and trying not to reveal how horrid the dryness in them feels after allowing them rest for a few moments after keeping them open for what could have been hours at this point. Mike's face is inches from mine, his brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scan for other obvious signs of distress.

"Hi," I croak in a tired, unused voice as I try to pretend all is well. Mike unfortunately knows better.

"What happened?" He asks concerningly, taking in the tone he does whenever Abby is upset, fretting over me like I'm an injured child as both of his hands cup my face, his lips finding what he's confirmed are thin, itchy and salty tear tracks, placing several, feather-light kisses along them.

"Nothing," I answer honestly, my voice still cracking. "I'm fine."

"Your eyes are red, baby," he says softly, pulling away to look at me again while his body inches closer. "You look like you've been crying for hours."

Ha. I wish. If I had been, maybe I'd feel better about everything. But instead, I've been lying here since Abby went to bed, feeling numb and dead internally as I willed myself to be upset about anything. Work, bills, the color of the walls. I'd succeeded maybe twice, little tears streaming down my face for a minute or two. But then they would stop, and it would feel as though I couldn't cry. Really cry. Like there was some emotional, maybe physical block preventing me from just truly letting all of my emotions out in a possibly hysterical fit. One that would mean I could connect to my humanity. I don't know what's wrong with me. So, instead I just say "I haven't cried."

Mike opens his mouth to call bullshit, but his brow furrows tighter as he thinks. "What's wrong?" He asks again, now lifting my head to allow one arm to slip underneath so I can lay upon it.

"Nothing," I answer again, truly unsure of what to say. "I'm really okay."

And I am. Work is fine, I am fine. Friends are fine. I don't have entitlement to be upset.

"Is it another episode?" Mike asks softly, now pulling his body onto the bed to lie next to me, fully committed to being partner of the year over here. Ugh. Great.

"No," I answer quickly, averting my gaze. Mike's hand cups my cheek, his body cool compared to mine. I'm soaked in sweat from sleeping - read: laying motionless on the bed since 9:30. - in too warm of clothes in too warm of a room under too warm of blankets. I probably stink. Meanwhile the morning air makes Mike feel refreshing. He's perfect. I'm a mess.

"It's okay if it is," Mike says softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of if-"

"I'm not having an episode," I say firmly, cutting him off as though it will solidify my statement more than his if I finish mine first. "I'm just not."

I don't pretend to be perfect. I'm not, and I never will be. I know that's okay. I know episodes happen, and that I'll be okay. I've been so much better lately on my new schedule. I'm working, I'm happy.

I have absolutely no good reason to be in the midst of a depression episode. One where the memories won't leave my mind, where I can't sleep, can't think about anything but the past. It plays in my head over and over again, and I can't stop it. Even though I try. I read, I journal, I bathe. But I don't feel real. People don't feel real. Mike is disorienting in the sense that he is the only thing that truly feels real. Where the pale color of the sheets seems hypnotic, his slightly tan skin contrasts to remind me this place really does exist. The furniture and details of the room seem as real as something from a video game, renderings that aren't as realistic as they could be that blend into the wall more as you look. Flat. Nothing. But the freckles on his nose are real. Strikingly real. Overly real. It's as though someone took their time to place each one, carefully deciding their color, their opacity, their placement. I want and love each one, but at this moment they slightly torture me by drawing me into a comforting trap.

"I haven't had an episode in over a month, I'm better," I attempt to say in a firm, solid voice. But I'm too tired, too worn out. My chest burns both from anxiety induced heartburn and how shallow my breathing has been for the past several hours. Mike looks sad, and I hate that. Deeply.

"You have been doing better," he says softly, like a reassuring parent. "I've seen that. And I'm so proud of you."

But I still have this. I'm still like this. I still can't have people wrap their arms around me from behind because I'm instantly taken back to when it would end in me collapsed on the ground, panting, crying, calling out for help that just wouldn't come. I still can't wear shirts with too tight of collars because it always end with me half naked, ripping the shirt off while hyperventilating. That was how I had to tell Mike. For our first Christmas together he bought me this beautiful turtleneck, knowing I liked the style but didn't own many. A dark evergreen color, affordable but a lovely tight-knit material, I adored the thing. But the moment the shirt was over my head, the neck felt like a hand suffocating me, and though I tried to tolerate it fie as long as I could, it only took one casual graze of his hand along my back to send me reeling into a corner, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering like a terrified child as I clawed at my neck while he tried to get it off of me.

'I'm so proud of you.' The statement feels like a backhanded reward. It feels as though I'm an idiotic child who just can't learn their ABC's or basic fundamental math. It feels like I'm a small toddler surrounded by adults looking at me full of pity in their eyes while they think 'well, you'll never be normal by any means. But maybe one day if you're lucky, you'll work in a Subway.' But they don't tell me this. They just praise me for existing. 'You woke up today! You put on clothes today! You didn't kill yourself!' It makes me want to scream. Yes, even at him. I want to grab him by his shirt and scream until my voice is shattered 'don't praise me for the bare minimum! I'm not a child!'

But I know he's not. I know he feels the same way when he slips back in progress as well. There was a solid month last year where Mike's insurance refused to pay for his sleep medication due to some paperwork slip and such, something they eventually realized was a complete blip on their end. But that month was hell for Mike, who could barely sleep well even with the medication. His easy smirks were replaced with cracked lips, skin raw from constant biting. His eyes were filled with paranoia from lack of sleep, and worse were the night terrors. Mike didn't even know he was still capable of having them, usually sedated by his meds well enough that if there was a nightmare, he just stayed asleep. At worst he'd wake up in a haze, maybe a very short yelp if anything. But without his meds, it was screaming. Constant screaming. There were nights he would wake after only an hour and he'd start, his voice shrill and reverberating off the walls as he thrashed in the bed. You couldn't console him, touch made him worse. When it happened, you simply had to leave the room and pray he would be okay. The episode could last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, and you would know it was over when all you could hear was broken sobbing, quiet and childlike in nature. Then I would return to the room, and there he'd be. Sometimes wrapped in blankets, sometimes his shirt torn off of himself. Usually sitting either in the dark corner of the room or on the floor of our closet. Red, angry marks would trail along his skin from clawing at himself with his uneven nails, some of them being actual cuts he'd managed in his terror. I'd carefully clean his cuts with cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide while he silently stared ahead, too ashamed to speak or make eye contact with me. And too terrified to sleep again.

Sleep deprivation didn't help, either. One day I saw him with a Redbull stuck in his hand, seemingly never empty despite how much he drank from it. At first I thought it was one, than I realized it was three, then I realized I didn't really know what number he was on. It was surprising how well he could take the new, unusual load of caffeine that tastes sickly sweet without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. I didn't realize he was trying to starve off sleep until the next morning when his leg was bouncing a mile a minute and he was snapping at every little thing. That day he had a breakdown over dropping an unpeeled onion. And that's when it slipped out.

I didn't judge him. I was terrified for him, but I didn't judge him. And I could tell the same was true for him when I would have my slips, though mine looked different. Mine looked like a lack of self care and rotting in our bed, staring pointlessly ahead until he would lift me off the bed and carefully guide me to a warm bath, where he'd gently wash my skin with a soft rag like I was a newborn while I stared ahead at nothing. At this point we had learned to tell the oncoming signs of each others episodes, and how to starve them off. And if we couldn't, how to help each other through them.

Usually, I don't mind. But today, it hurts. It all hurts.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks me gently, his thumb gliding over my cheekbone as he wraps me in his embrace, careful of where he places his hands on my person. Like I'm a bomb.

I don't want to be treated like this anymore.

"Yes," I sigh in an irritated voice, like it's the most inconvenient thing he should ask me such a question. But I haven't. I feel empty and yet too full at the same time, and guilt pounds behind my left eye with the ferocity of a headache that I can't just mother myself.

Mike doesn't believe me. He'll pretend he does, but the press of his lips betray him as he takes a deep breath in like he's trying to tell what wire to cut next.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" He asks softly, his thumb still stroking just below the raw corner of my eye. It burns. All of it.

'No,' I snap in my head. But I just tighten my jaw and press my own lips together.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you," I say in a tight voice. Now he's going to pretend that's okay, and he'll go get his breakfast. Then he'll pretend he can't finish it all, joke lightly and say I gave him too big of a portion even though he eats like he's still a growing teenager, and offer me little bites as he "tries" to finish the rest, then eventually trick me into finishing it. He isn't slick, and I'm not a child.

"Hey," he says in a light whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could go out today? All three of us? Or I could call Max, see if she'll watch Abs for a little bit so we can get away?"

Distraction. Cute. I don't need it.

"That could be nice," I admit through half gritted teeth, not meeting his eyes. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," he says too quickly, obviously relieved to have a straw to grasp at. "Your choice."

Guilt twists in my chest like an alien creature settled in my lungs, burning as it begins to slither its way towards my throat to suffocate me on its wrath. He doesn't need to do this. Can't he see how well I'm doing?

"How was work?" He asks me in an attempt to keep me talking. Mike doesn't like silence, not like this. Not really any time. There's always noise throughout the house, whether it's a show on in the background or white noise from his cassette player. He can't stand silence. Especially from people.

"Work was..." Fine? The usual? Non-eventful?

"Good," I decide. Mike presses his lips together again. Stop doing that.

"Yeah?" He asks in a slightly tight voice.

"Yeah," I confirm in a tighter voice.

"You didn't... call out or anything?"

My bottom left back molar feels like it might snap from how tight my jaw is. "Why?" I ask, venom unintentionally creeping in.

"Just asking," he says quickly.

"Why?" I press harder, wanting to know who told on me. Abby hasn't even had the chance to speak with him.

'It's because he knows your patterns,' I think. 'He's trying to gage how serious this is.'

"Maybe we could go out for breakfast? We can wait until Abby wakes up, go get some Waffle Hous-"

"I'm not having an episode," I snap quickly, more harsh than I intended. My tone makes him flinch slightly, his eyes shutting for a moment as he takes another breath in. Now I'm scared he'll pull away.

"We... don't have to talk about this right now," he says softly, opening his eyes again and wrapping his arm around me tighter. "Let's just focus on breakfast."

The guilt pounds in my kidneys, which are sore since I haven't left the bed since I laid down after putting Abby to sleep, but I did have a full water bottle around 3:00 in the morning. It's not Mike's fault I backtracked. He's just trying to be nice. I'm the asshole here.

"I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, dropping my gaze and biting my tongue between my canines again to stop the tears that are now willing to come freely to burn my eyes during such an inappropriate moment.

"It's okay," Mike says softly, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Don't even think about it."

'Don't even think about the fact he's just trying to be a decent person and you can't even say 'thank you,'' a grating voice in my head chides me. 'What, you're too good for a free meal?'

"I'm sorry," I repeat softer, my nails digging into my wrist that I'm holding to keep control over myself. Mike's hand is searching for mine, ready to pry it away to prevent me from doing what I need to to prevent the waterworks.

"Hey." Stop with the 'hey's. "I said it's alright, you're okay."

It's all bad. Everything's bad, and it's not going to get better. I keep thinking I'll get better, I keep thinking I'll be okay. But every two steps forward is one step back and I can't keep doing this redundant bullshit for the rest of my life. Am I going to be 40 at the office Christmas party sneaking off to freak out in the bathroom because something triggered me and I just can't get a grip on things? Am I even going to make it to 40?

Mike is comforting me, cradling my head to his chest and rocking me back and forth. And his shirt is wet. I don't like that his shirt is wet, it should be dry. Why is it fucking wet?

"It's okay," he's whispering in my hair while horrid choking sounds come from somewhere around us. Maybe the other room? "You're alright, it's okay."

I'm aware it's alright, I'm aware it's okay. Why are you wet? Why does my head hurt?

"I can't- sleep," my voice chokes out between guttural sobs, my face pressed into his chest. "It's all nightmares."

Oh. Shit. That's me. The wetness, I did that. My bad.

"I know, it's okay. How long?" Mike asks softly. What, are you gonna call my therapist?

"A week," I moan into his chest. My ribs expand with each recycled breath I steal from against his chest, and I can feel him trying to gently tug me away so I can get one with fresh, cold air instead. I don't let him. My lungs burn more. "They just won't stop."

"It's okay, it's only temporary," he says softly, his hand pushing away some of the blanket to relieve me of the boiling warmth underneath. The cold air is refreshing against my skin, even through my clothes are soaked with stinking sweat.

"No, it's not!" I cry hysterically into his chest. "They don't go away. None of it goes away. I want it to go away!"

He's nodding, rubbing circles on my back as I grip his shirt hard enough it may stretch.

"It'll get better. It did for awhile," he reminds me.

"But I'm back here. I always end up back here. I was doing so good!" I sob, feeling the wetness on his shirt begin to slightly thicken, probably due to snot. I try to sniff it back into my sinuses, but I think that just draws his attention to the new fluid he's covered in.

"That's okay. You'll do even better next time. And if you don't, that's okay too." Don't say what I think you're going to say. Do not. Michael, I'm serious, don't- "I'm still proud of you."

Fuck. Ooooooff!

This is the real release of my emotions. Now I'm gasping, choking, sobbing, making horrible sounds that sound like a European ambulance siren wailing through the streets to announce someone's dying on the way to the hospital. My head throbs with the pain from the heavy crying, and I may give myself a nosebleed from the passion of it all. And Mike, his patience thick and durable, just holds me through it all. Letting me soak his shirt, dirty his skin, grab at him blindly while I wail like a spoiled child, just repeating the phrase over again. 'Proud.' What pride. What honor to be had at such a breakdown. Yes, very understandable.

"I should be better," I sob into his chest. "You deserve better."

"What?" He laughs lightly, and at first it feels mocking, but then he's pulling my head away fron my soaked enclosure and his eyes are so gentle for a moment I know the light laughter is simply from surprise. Then his eyes widen and he's back in parent mode.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me!" I choke out while gripping his shirt. At first he thinks I'm talking about our relationship, then he realizes I'm not letting him pull away.

"Sweetheart, you're bleeding," he gently explains. "Let me wipe your face. I just need tissues. I'm not even leaving the bed."

But that's too much. Let me bleed, let my head throb, let this headache take the vision away in my eye from how bad it hurts. Let anything happen so long as I can stay in this moment. Don't break the spell. Don't let me go numb again.

"Don't leave me," I cry pathetically, my eyes all scrunched together in the same manner as wailing infants, my grip on his shirt not breaking. Sure enough, there on the wet spot of his shirt is a dark stain of blood that should hopefully come out if we wash it fast enough.

"Let me do that," I'm saying as I try to peel off his shirt now. "Let me wash it."

He's gently guiding my hands away. "Don't worry about it," he says gently, kissing my hands and wrists like they might break even from the delicate graze of his lips. "Let me take care of you."

He does this all the time. He always takes care of me. I should do more. Be more. For him.

"You deserve better," I choke out, feeling like I may suffocate from the tears. Mike's brows furrow in concern, and he grips my chin very carefully as he makes me meet his eyes.

"Hey, no. Get that out of your head, it's all okay," he tells me softly, staring at me like if he can't verbally convince me, his hard stare will do the trick. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"I should be better," I repeat, my crying lessening slightly as I try to hold eye contact.

"You're getting better," he reminds me. "This is the happiest I've seen you since we met. You'll get back to that. Hell, you could feel the same way tonight. It's okay. Take a day off. We all need one, even normal people," he says softly, stroking my hair as he kisses my forehead. "Can you just let me take care of you in the meantime?"

No. Go away, let me rot.

"We can still go out for breakfast," he offers gently. "I can still call Max, or we can all stay in. I'll set up a nest in the living room so you can watch TV. Works you like that?"

Stop. Stop being nice to me, stop trying to make me feel better. It all just feels awful. I don't want this guilt, someone takes it away.

Mike must sense my overwhelmed emotions, because he places another kiss on my forehead before asking if he can clean my face again, and this time I say yes. He pulls away, which is still upsetting but less so. I don't make a deal out of it this time at least. He opens a drawer, searching for wipes and pulling them out before turning back to me.

"Do you want to sit up?" He asks gently. I bite my tongue to prevent another mocking thought directed towards me and nod. Bones crack as I do, my kidneys hurt worse. But at least I finally moved.

Tears still streak down my face as Mike wipes away the snot and blood, his large hand gently cupping my face as he does. There's a soft smile on his face, though I'm not particularly sure why. And when he's done, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip before placing his own lips on top of mine. They're chapped, one spot raw from excessive biting. But there's still some leftover chapstick on them, and it tastes like grapefruit.

I tug on his shirt, one hand sneaking under it to feel his cool skin underneath. He gently takes my wrist once more, then pulls away. A silent rejection. He knows that I'm just looking for a distraction from my emotions, and in a moment he'll offer a much healthier one. He does discard the shirt, leaving his chest bare, but only so that he doesn't smear my fluids back onto me as he pulls me in for another embrace.

"We'll be okay," he promises. "Everything will be okay."

"What if it's not?" I ask in a quiet, strained voice.

"Then it'll be okay later. You can take time to not be okay," he says.

There's a short silence before either of us speak. And when I hear his voice hitch in the way it does when he's about to say something, Abby's alarm rings crystal clear in her room. Then the sound of a truck rattles by on the road in front of the house. Birds continue to sing. And my pours feel so clogged I'm sure my skin will be lashing out for days.

But it'll all be okay.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

"Can we have some fluff to reco-" no. Suffer.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[wist0ragic]

#☆ yandere glamrock freddy !¡ headcanons

(this is my first time writing something so bear with me 😭 it was kinda rushed near the end)

cw: possessive behaviour, overprotectiveness, slightly controlling, slight stockholm syndrome, slightly manipulative, typical yandere behaviour you would expect

- for starters as you would expect and just like everyone else would agree, glamrock freddy is a much more tame yandere

- he’s definitely not out for blood and would in no way physically harm you or others unless absolutely pushed to do so (and only then he would hurt others if absolutely necessary)

- but he will absolutely guilt trip you with those sweet eyes of his and insist that he’s the only one who could really protect you and keep you safe from the harsh reality of the world and all of its cruelties

- whether you’re an employee at the mega pizza plex or simply a customer who stops by when they can, you manage to catch the bots eye on day one

- for example let’s say we went with the idea that you were an employee that worked for the massive place, it would be your first day and of course the usual anxieties of starting something new start to overwhelm you a little

- especially since your main duties would be maintenance work on the big four

- and who else but freddy would immediately pick up on the fact that you were nervous on your first day and happily offer guidance and reassurance

- i mean he practically spends the whole day with you glued to your hip, or at least as much as he can, what with being the big man himself

- but as soon as any shows or birthday parties were finally over with freddy would immediately find his way to wherever you were and fret over how you were doing without him

- had you taken enough breaks? did you drink enough water? did you have something to eat on break? have customers and coworkers been nice to you? have his band mates been treating you well? did you miss him?

- all of these are questions that freddy would fire off rapidly due to worry

- eventually, after some time working at the pizza plex, you open up to freddy about how the monotony of work was getting to you

- and that having to deal with shitty coworkers and customers five days a week was utterly exhausting

- that’s when the idea clicked in the bots head

- freddy could tell you were tired and so who better than him to rescue you from all of that stress and nonsense?

- he just knew that he was the only who could keep you happy and content, even if that meant locking you away in his room

- “but superstar… you shouldn’t have to worry about such silly things like work. you’re too precious to be so stressed out and tired. so let me take care of you from now on. I promise I can make you happy in here with me. It’ll be just us…. forever and ever”

- and a part of that delusional offer does sound tempting you have to admit, to have the glamrock freddy care for you and look after you, but at the end of the day escape still lingered in the back of your mind

- the same could be said if you were a customer as well

- only difference is that freddy would have first met you after his performance, he recognized you from all the cheering you did, it was incredibly endearing

- after that freddy would eagerly wait for you, counting down the days until your next visit and celebrating each and every time you stopped by

- but he would still just as easily find a way to convince you to come with him in his room to spend time together

- “come on superstar! it’s been too long since we last got to hang out, let’s catch up in my room! i have plenty of time before my next show”

- and who wouldn’t trust the big ol’ sweetheart?

- that’s when you would find yourself with the door locking heavily behind you and freddy managing to slip you a nighttime candy or two

- “shhh now superstar, i’ve got you, you’re finally safe now with me” and that would be the last thing you hear before your whole world slowly fades to black

“we were meant for each other, no one else can love you the way i do, so let’s stay together forever…. alright?”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔰s

Mike schmidt x gn reader

Summary: Mike is determined to propose to the love of his life, but his attempts are constantly interrupted by nerves and unforeseen events. His younger sister Abby discovers his intentions and convinces him in a plan to make his proposal unforgettable.

Warnings: gender neutral pronouns for the reader so everyone can read. Marriage proposal. Abby acting like every little sibling would. Super fluff. Make-out session.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words count: almost 4000

Mike sat alone in the slimby lit break room of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, moving from one hand to the other the small, worn out box in his hand. He flicked it open and gazed at the cheap simple ring inside. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford.

The ring's silver band reflected the harsh fluorescent lights, and Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy. Could you truly want to marry someone like him, with a life as complicated and broken as his?

His mind raced filled with doubts and fears. The tragedies of his past, the constant struggle to make ends meet. The responsibility of taking care of Abby weighed heavily on him.

How could he ask you to share in his burdens as your own?

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. Every time he thought he had mustered the courage, those nagging thoughts pulled him back down.

He thought about Garret, his little brother, who has been taken purely because of his mistakes. Mike had failed Garret, and he couldn't shake the fear that he would fail you too.

The sound of heavy and clunky footsteps echoed from the arcade, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart. He closed the box with a snap, shoving it back into his pocket. Maybe it was foolish, maybe you deserve someone better, someone who could give you more than just a cheap ring and a troubled life.

Hours passed, and soon Mike found himself back home. He slipped inside the bed where you were sleeping peacefully, observing how you would wake up instantly every time.

The mattress creaked under his weight.

The lines of fatigue etched on your face softened, and he marveled at the delicate curve of your cheekbone.

Your brows furrow, creating deep lines across your forehead. The corners of your mouth pull downward, forming a slight grimace and your nose wrinkled as if reacting to an unpleasant sensation. All this while your eyelids remain shut, shielding your eyes from the morning light.

“Hey,” You murmured, your voice a raspy whisper. “You’re back.”

“Missed you,” he confessed, his fingers brushing against your hips.

You shifted closer towards him, snuggling with him and putting your face on his neck. The stubble on his jaw scratched against your skin, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Just a minute and I’ll take Abby to school” You mumbled against his skin, the gesture and your closeness deleting all the negative thoughts that haunted him the whole night.

“Take all the time that you need” he mumbled, your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. The scent of your hair, the gentle rise and fall of your chest: it all felt like a lifeline.

‘Today,’ he thought as he was falling asleep with the warmth you provided to his body and heart.

‘Today, I’ll do it.’

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

Mike had been on edge all day, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. You noticed the slight tremor in his hands and the distant look in his eyes as he tried to make conversation. It wasn't like him to be this distracted, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Despite his tough exterior, you knew Mike well enough to see the vulnerability hidden underneath.

That evening, you both found a rare moment of quiet in the living room. Mike had been fiddling with something in his pocket. The air was thick with unspoken words, and your curiosity grew with each passing second.

Mike took a deep breath and walked over to where you were sitting, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Hey," Mike finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," you replied, your concern deepening as you saw the anxiety etched on his face.

You tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't meet your gaze. Instead, he stared at the floor.

"Mike, what's wrong?" you asked softly leaning closer. You reached out, touching his arm lightly.

His eyes darted around, avoiding your gaze.

"I've been thinking a lot about us. About our future." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "You know, my life has been one hell of a ride. It's been tough, messy, and full of mistakes. I never imagined it would turn out like this, taking care of Abby on my own, working night shifts just to keep us afloat. But then you came into my life."

He swallowed hard, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away.

"I know I don't have much to offer. But...I can't imagine my future without you.”

Mike's voice wavered as he tried to continue, but his anxiety got the best of him.

He’d spent years building walls, keeping people at arm’s length. You have chipped away at those walls, brick by brick, until there was nothing left but vulnerability. And now, he feared losing it all.

He reached into his pocket, taking hold of the small box. His hands trembled, and he found himself unable to continue. The weight of his fears and insecurities bore down on him, making it impossible to speak. He felt the familiar grip of panic tightening around his chest. His breath quickened, and he stared at the floor, defeated. The memories of his past failures, especially with Garret, loomed large in his mind. He felt like he was trapped in a cycle of disappointment, unable to break free.

As Mike sat there, unable to find the words, a flood of memories washed over him. He recalled the first time he met you, the way your smile had lit up the room. He remembered the late night conversations where you both shared your dreams and fears, the quiet moments of comfort you provided when he felt like the world was falling apart. He thought about the times you had been there for Abby, treating her with kindness and love, making her laugh when she was down

He remembered the look in your eyes when you told him you believed in him, that you saw the good in him even when he couldn't see it himself. Those memories were a lifeline, pulling him out of the depths of his despair. They reminded him of the strength and resilience he had found through your support.

Just as he seemed completely overwhelmed. Abby burst into the room, her timing impeccable as always, "Hey, can I get some new papers to draw on?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent

You looked at Mike, secing the desperation in his eves. "I'll go get them," you said softly.

As you left the room, Mike slumped back into the couch, the open box now in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. In a swift motion, Abby snatched the box and dashed away from him.

"Abby!" Mike shouted, scrambling to his feet. He chased her through the hallway, his heart pounding not just from the chase but from the fear of losing the ring.

"Abby come on, give it back!" Mike pleaded as he cornered her in her room, trying to keep his voice calm.

Abby giggled, holding the box behind her back. "Why do you want it so bad?"

Mike knelt down to her level, his eyes softening. "It's important. Really important. It's for-" He paused, unsure of how much to reveal.

Abby's expression changed, curiosity turning to concern. "YOU WANNA MARRY-" her scream of pure joy was interrupted by Mike’s hand on her mouth. He shushed her after taking a quick glance in your direction. Mike nodded, swallowing hard "Yes, please don’t say a word."

Abby's face lit up with excitement, she nodded eagerly and Mike decided to trust his little sister and softly moved his head away. "Really? We’ll be a family now!"

Mike's heart ached at her words. He hugged her tightly drawing strength from her innocent faith in him.

Abby pulled back and gave him a stern look. "I want to help you, pleaseeee! I want to see too!" Mike laughed, a genuine, relieved laugh that seemed to lift some of the weight off his shoulders, "Deal. Tomorrow morning"

☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎

The house was draped in the peaceful silence of the night, the kind that wraps around you like a comforting blanket. You were already tucked into bed, a worn novel in your hands, its pages illuminated by the soft, amber light of the bedside lamp. The quiet creaking of the old house was the only sound until you heard the faint, muffled whispers from down the hall.

Mike was putting Abby to bed, and their voices floated through the hallway, indistinct but filled with a warmth that made you smile. You turned your head slightly, straining to catch snippets of their conversation. You couldn't make out the words, but the gentle tones of their exchange and the occasional giggles of Abby made your heart swell with affection for both of them.

As you lay there, your eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling. The torn poster of Nebraska, which Mike had tried to remove some time ago, caught your attention. Its ragged edges and the remnants of adhesive clinging to the plaster served as a poignant reminder of the past struggles and unresolved pain he carried with him.

This evening they are talking much more than usual, their voices reduced to a barely perceptible murmur.

You strained your ears, trying to catch every single word. You squint your eyes, as if you could trade your sight for superhuman hearing ability. Every muscle in your body was tense in the effort to grasp those whispered secrets.

You sighed softly, contemplating whether to get up and use the excuse of needing the bathroom to sneak a peek at their conversation.

You debated the idea, curiosity gnawing at you, but ultimately, the warmth of the bed and the soothing comfort of the blankets won out.

Laziness, or perhaps a desire to give them their privacy, kept you nestled where you were. You turned back to your book, though your mind was no longer on the story.

The door creaked open, and Mike stepped into the room, his expression softening as he saw you lying there. He closed the door quietly, moving with the careful, deliberate grace of someone who had long since learned to tread lightly in the presence of those he loved. He crossed the room and slipped under the covers beside you.

Without a word, he reached out and gently pulled you closer by the waist, his strong arms encircling you and causing you to abandon your book. Your head came to rest on his pillow, just inches away from his face.

Mike's gaze was intense, almost as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in the curve of your lips, the line of your jaw, the way your hair frames your face. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Is everything okay, Mike?" you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, but his gaze never wavered. The silence between you was charged with unspoken words and emotions.

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering on his skin. "You know you can talk to me about anything," you murmured.

Mike simply nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you. It started gently, almost tentatively, but quickly deepened into something more fervent and passionate. His hand found its way into your hair, pulling you even closer as his lips moved against yours with a desperate intensity.

Time seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation of his kiss. The world outside your bedroom ceased to exist and all that mattered was the feel of his body against yours, the warmth of his touch, the way his kiss spoke volumes where words failed him. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his other hand roamed over your back, holding you tightly as if he were afraid to let go.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and you could feel your resolve melting away under the onslaught of his affection. His kiss was filled with everything he couldn't say-his fears, his hopes, his unwavering love for you. It was a silent promise, a plead for a future together that he desperately wanted but was afraid to believe he deserved.

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break apart, but Mike's hold on you never loosened. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, ragged gasps. His eyes were closed, as if he were savoring the moment, committing every detail to memory.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him again if everything was alright, but the look on his face stopped you. His expression was one of pure contentment, his features relaxed in a way you rarely saw.

As exhaustion finally caught up with you both, you snuggled closer into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body and the protective circle of his arms around you lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

Mike lay awake for a while longer, watching you sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of the life you could have together. He thought about the ring hidden in his pocket and the promise it held.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thought.

‘Tomorrow, I’ll do it.’

☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎

You wake up to the faint sound of whispering drifting in from the kitchen. Groggy, you blink against the morning light filtering through the curtains. The whispers grow a little louder interspersed with occasional giggles, you strain to make out the words.

“...what if they choke on it?” Abby’s voice, barely suppressed by her laughter, reaches your ears.

“Shh, keep your voice down” Mike’s urgent whisper follows. You hear the clink of plates being set on the table.

Curiosity gets the better of you. You slide out of bed and quietly pad towards the kitchen, peeking around the corner. There, you see Mike and Abby huddled together, their heads bent in front of the pots.

Abby is already dressed, an unusual sight this early in the morning. Today she has no school. You can’t help but smile at the sibling duo.

They seem to be plotting something.

As you step into the room, they both straighten up abruptly, their faces a picture of innocence.

“Good morning!” Abby chirps, her tone overly cheerful. She flashes you a broad smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mike, caught mid-turn at the stove, gives you a nervous grin. “Morning,” he says, his voice slightly strained. There’s an edge to his movements, as if he’s trying too hard to appear casual.

You raise an eyebrow, taking in the scene. “What’s going on here? Abby, you’re up early.”

Abby just giggles, glancing at Mike, who is now meticulously flipping pancakes, his back rigid with tension. You can’t shake the feeling that something is definitely up. The more you observe their behavior, the more suspicious you become. Why are they acting so strangely?

“Nothing, just thought I’d help Mike with breakfast” Abby says, her voice a tad too innocent. You sit down at the table, still watching them closely. “Okay,” you say slowly, “this is a nice change of pace.”

Mike brings over a plate stacked with pancakes and sets it in front of you. “Dig in,” he says, his voice wavering slightly. He sits down, but you notice he barely touches his own plate, his eyes darting between you and Abby.

You cut into the fluffy pancake, your suspicion mounting. Mike’s anxiety is almost palpable now, and Abby’s wide-eyed gaze is fixed on you, barely blinking as she watches you chew.

They both seem way too invested in your breakfast experience.

“So, did you two plan this breakfast together?” you ask, trying to sound casual while you scrutinize their reactions. Abby nods enthusiastically “Yep! We thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”

“That’s sweet,” you say taking another bite. “It’s just... you both are acting a bit strange.”

Mike looks down at his plate awkwardly “We’re just... happy to have breakfast together.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his face and the untouched food in his plate. “Mike, you’re not eating.”

“I’m just not that hungry,” he says quickly his eyes flicking nervously to Abby.

“Uh-huh,” you say eyeing him suspiciously “And Abby you’re unusually quiet.”

Abby stifles a giggle, her eyes darting to Mike. “I’m just excited! Aren’t you excited, Mike?”

Mike forces a smile. “Yeah, very excited.”

You can’t help but laugh inwardly at their antics. What on earth are they up to? Your mind begins to wander.

Did they put something in the food?

They didn’t poisoned your pancake...right??

It’s something stupid to think about but Mike’s tensed behavior and Abby’s incessant staring were way too strange for your taste. You navigated inside your thoughts, searching for any possible reason as to why the Schmidt siblings would possible want you dead.

Why are you even thinking about this option? It’s been minutes since your first bite. If your first hypothesis was correct, right now you would already be in a garbage bag ready to be hidden. You feel perfectly fine.

For now.

Your thoughts get increasingly outlandish. Maybe it’s a prank. Maybe they saw a funny video online about tricking someone with breakfast and decided to try it. You almost chuckle out loud at the absurdity of it all.

Mike keeps stealing glances at you while you eat, his face a mixture of hope and anxiety. Abby, on the other hand, is trying her best to maintain a straight face but failing miserably. Every time you look at her, she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, what’s going on?” you finally ask, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Mike’s eyes widen slightly. “Nothing’s going on.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? Because it seems like you’re both hiding something.”

Abby bites her lip, trying to suppress another giggle. “We’re not hiding anything. Just enjoy your pancakes.”

You take another bite, savoring the warm, fluffy texture and delicious taste, all the while wondering what on earth they could be hiding.

Then, you bite down on something hard. The yelp of surprise was muffled by your mouth closed but both Mike and Abby turned their head at 90 degrees to stare again at you. One had a pale face while the other was grinning from ear to ear.

Your heart skips a beat. You hide your mouth with one of your hands to discreetly remove the foreign object from your mouth with the other, your fingers trembling slightly.

It’s a ring. A simple, elegant ring.

Wait, what?

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Mike is out of his chair and kneeling beside you, his face a mix of terror and hope. “Will you marry me?” he blurts out, his voice cracking with emotion.

Abby beams at you, her excitement barely contained. She clasps her hands together, her eyes shining with delight as she watches the scene unfold.

You stare at Mike, your heart pounding, the room around you blurring as tears well up in your eyes. The realization of his nervousness, his stolen glances, and Abby’s strange behavior all click into place.

Mike reaches for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “I know it’s been tough, and I haven’t always been the best at showing it, but I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

His vulnerability, usually hidden beneath a tough exterior, is laid bare before you. You can see the fear in his eyes, the fear of rejection, but also the unwavering determination to make you happy.

Abby, unable to contain herself any longer, jumps up from her seat and hugs you both. “Say yes! Say yes!” she chants, her joy infectious.

You laugh through your tears, overwhelmed by the love and the absurdity of the moment. “Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in cheers. Abby bouncing around with glee, and Mike pulling you into a tight embrace. The weight of the world lifts off his shoulders as he kisses you, his relief and happiness evident.

As you sit back down, the ring now securely on your finger, Mike finally relaxes, and the three of you share the rest of the pancakes, laughter and love filling the room. The awkwardness and tension of the morning dissolve into a memory you’ll cherish forever.

You can’t help but chuckle at your earlier thoughts. Poison? Really? You mentally scold yourself for letting your imagination run wild, but you also appreciate how deeply this moment has etched itself into your heart.

Mike, still holding your hand, looks at you with a mixture of relief and adoration. “Sorry for the secrecy. I wanted it to be a surprise, and Abby was adamant about helping.”

Abby nods vigorously “I told him it would be perfect! And it was, right?”

You nod, smiling. “It was perfect. I totally didn’t suspected anything.” Mike chuckles, finally taking a bite of his now cold pancake. “Yeah, I probably should have kept my cool better. I was so nervous”

You squeeze his hand. “It was adorable. And perfect.”

The morning continues with laughter and joy. Mike’s initial anxiety melts away, replaced by a profound sense of contentment. He keeps his hand in yours, occasionally glancing at the ring on your finger with a smile that speaks volumes.

Abby chatters excitedly about the planning, her ideas for the wedding, and how she knew all along that you would say yes. Her enthusiasm is contagious, filling the room with warmth and laughter. Mike listens, his eyes filled with affection and gratitude, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the moment.

The ring on your finger feels both familiar and new, a promise of the future you and Mike will share. The morning, with all its quirks and surprises, will be a story you'll both tell for years to come, a perfect blend of love, laughter, and a touch of mischief, thanks to Abby's enthusiastic participation.

Mike stands up, pulling you into another hug. "I love you," he whispers, his voice steady and sure. "Thank you for saving yes.”

You smile, resting your head against his chest. "I love you too, Mike. Always."

Abby, unable to contain her excitement any longer, joins the hug, wrapping her arms around both of you. "We're going to be the best family ever!" she declares, her voice filled with the certainty only a child can have.

She was so right.

Note: I'll admit, I'm a bit skeptical about this one but I honestly couldn't stop thinking about this idea, so sorry if this was bad :)

[beesonhoneytoast]

“I’m hopeless without you.”

♡ Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader ♡

synopsis: on his day off, mike hears that you were involved in some freak accident at work. he wastes no time in getting dressed and driving to your workplace. however, when he calls you, something bizarre happens. cws: hurt/comfort, established relationship, mike being a narcoleptic mess and a disaster pansexual (?), crying, confusing dreams for reality

~800 words | divider creds @firefly-graphics

Mike runs out into the living room, putting on his shirt as he rushed out of his bedroom.

Abby is lying on her stomach watching cartoons but turns her head at the sound of her big brother shuffling around and panting. “Mike?” She called for him.

“Y/n was involved in an accident. I don’t have time to call anyone to watch you, so get your shoes on. We’re going to find them.” He explained, hopping on one foot as he put his shoes on. He grabbed the keys as Abby slipped her little Mary Janes on. 

The two Schmidts went outside and Abby rushed to the backseat on the passenger side of Mike’s car. 

Mike got the front door of the house locked after a moment (as trying to do anything with trembling hands is understandably very difficult). Mike slammed on the gas after hurriedly backing out of the driveway, and he pulled out his flip-phone, selected your number on it, and put it to his ear. Every time, however, he was sent to voicemail. He left a message every time he was. 

“Y/n, it's me, Mike.” 

“If you're alive, Y/n, please reach out if you can.” 

“Please Y/n, I- I'm hopeless without you.” 

“Okay. The third time wasn't the charm, neither was the fourth. Maybe the fifth time will be the one? I dunno. I have no idea if or when you'll hear this, but... Ever since I've known you, I've felt... So at home. You're the only person I know who seems to care about me, and- I… I can't lose you. Please.” Mike said into the phone.

“Mike?” Your voice came from the receiver, laughing slightly.

Mike’s heart nearly leaped out of his ribcage. “Y/N?!” He shouted. He was so alarmed because your voice sounded perfectly okay. “This- isn't some sort of prank, right?” He whispered in denial. 

Your airy chuckles came crackling over the phone. “Mike, I'm okay. I'm at work. I just went on break and saw you were sending me like, three or four voicemails. Is everything okay?” You asked him seriously now.

Mike pulled over on the side of the street and teared up in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair after putting the car in Park. 

Abby was very confused by this entire situation. She was looking out the windows with her brows scrunched. “What's going on, Mike?” She asked. 

“Ah, I hear a certain little girl is there with you?” You teased. 

“Yeah, uh…” Mike mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I- I have no idea what happened. I just heard you were in danger and I panicked and didn't think things through and-” 

“Oh, Mike. I'm coming over to you. Are you out of the house already?” You asked.

“I'm… right next to your work building, actually.” Mike chuckled breathily. 

“Ah, I see. I'll be right out, okay?” You told him. 

“M’kay.” He muttered, sniffling slightly, causing you to frown. 

“I’ll see you outside.” You said before hanging up. 

Mike pulled into a parking spot in front of your workplace and you walked right out the front door and trotted towards his car. He couldn't believe it. 

There you were, perfectly fine and alive. You got in on the passenger side of the car. “Hi, Mike.” You greeted him softly. 

And just like that, the man crumbled, and tears spilled. He hid his face in his hands and his shoulders shook with each sob. 

“Oh, come here, buddy.” You cooed, unbuckling his seatbelt and hugging him over the console between the both of your seats. You pet his messy hair softly. Clearly, he had been in a rush to get here to you, for he didn't have the time to brush his hair and get himself tidy. “It's okay. I'm here, I'm okay, I'm alive.” You whispered reassuringly, holding him to your chest as best as you could in this awkward setting of the front seats in his car. 

Eventually, you had all gotten home and you made dinner, as you felt obligated to, considering you unintentionally scared Mike that day. 

Once Abby was sent to bed, Mike revealed that he had a dream that you had gotten into an accident at work, and to him, it felt so real that he believed it was reality. 

“I’m so sorry that happened, baby. Dreams are so weird.” You told him, hugging him for the nth time that night. 

Mike had a special little spot under your chin and on your collarbone where he could just bury his face into. He whimpered softly, holding your shirt in his balled fists. 

You kissed his forehead softly as he relaxed in your arms, moving his head down so it was now in your lap, resting against your thighs and using them for pillows. You played with his hair and hummed softly, the quiet sound of your singing gently lulling him to sleep, and soon you found yourself joining Mike in the realm of dreams.

>> end.

story written by @beesonhoneytoast. characters belong to five nights at freddy’s © 2014

[xcherryerim]

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

Warning: Friends to lovers | Sappy | angst and fluff (?) | mentions of sex | fighting | a bit of aggressive Mike

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

[g0ry0re0]

"Valentine", Mike Schmidt (Five Nights At Freddy's, 2023, Film) - Imagine

Description: You and Mike take the day off for Valentine's Day, spending quality time with one another. / Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

General Notes: Established Relationship (reader lives with Mike and Abby), Gender Neutral Reader (no use of Y/N), Pure Fluff, Second Person POV, Takes Place After The Film's Events (no mention of movie plot, mostly just mentioned for the character and relationship development), Set In The Movie Year (2000), Brief Scene With Abby In The Beginning, Lots Of Physical Touch

Author's Note: The song choice is soooo not original lol, but I love Laufey and had to do something really cute for Valentine's Day (song is linked at the bottom of the post). This was also heavily inspired by a tweet from @/whycraves on twitter (screenshot at bottom of post). Also, my best friend, @anal-spaghetti-monster (I'm sorry lol) helped me choose the gif for Mike! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The morning before posting this, I read @sleepyhutcherson's Mike Schmidt Valentine's Day prompt and noticed a lot of similarities. I just want to throw it out there that this is purely a coincidence and that I reached out to her to confirm that posting this was still okay. Besides that, check out her work as well, as she did an amazing job with a similar prompt!

Word Count: 1,693 Words

"Alright, Abbs, you got everything?" Mike turns around in the car seat to face her.

Your car is temporarily parked by the elementary school curb with a handful of others, you're sitting in the driver's seat and looking back and forth between your boyfriend and his younger sister. This was one of the rare days you and Mike could drop her off at school together, as you had both taken the day off work. The three of you spent an easy-going morning together, not as hectic as it usually is when trying to get ready as fast as possible for work and school. Mike in particular had woken up early and made a small breakfast for you and Abby. He woke you up with coffee and Abby with the promise of bacon, causing you both to rise quickly out of your beds and immediately join him in the kitchen. The time was spent enjoying each other's company and getting ready leisurely before heading out the door.

Abby rolls her eyes playfully and smiles. "Yes, Mike."

You smile as well and add, "Sounds like something you should've asked before we even got in the car. Definitely not when we're already at school."

It's Mike's turn to roll his eyes, but he quickly looks back at Abby.

"And you have your...love- heart candy letter things for your friends?"

"They're Valentine's Day cards, Mike! And, yes," she shakes a pink and red decorated, emptied-out, tissue box filled with cards and candy. "I have them right here."

Before Mike can even think about a response, Abby opens the car door excitedly and jumps out, shouting her goodbyes while running to the school entrance. Mike tries to yell something out the window about staying safe and paying attention to her teacher, but Abby is inside before he can try. You laugh while putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot, Mike still flustered and slightly worried.

"She- she didn't even...I didn't get to-" Mike stutters out, speechless.

"Mike," You laugh again. "She's excited about Valentine's Day and seeing her friends. Can you blame her?" You glance at him, smiling before turning back to the road and continuing your short drive home.

Mike grumbles unintelligibly and looks out the window, but still grabs your free hand that's set on the center console and squeezes it lightly.

Getting out of the car causes a harsh chill to run through your body pulling your jacket around the front of your torso while closing the car door. Mike pulls out his keys and quickly opens up the front door, both out of anticipation for your day together and to get you both out of the cold as soon as possible. You rush in side by side, slightly stumbling and sighing as the warmth of your shared home dethaws your frozen bodies. Mike locks the door and watches you fondly as you remove your scarf, your gloves, your coat, and finally your shoes, leaving them by the front door. Not going unnoticed by you, you smirk while walking towards the living room.

"You're staring again, lover boy." You comment teasingly, walking around the couch and plopping down.

Mike blushes, a little embarrassed, but smiling at the nickname. He removes his excess layers as well, following you to the couch shortly after. He sits directly beside you and wraps one arm around your shoulders, the other snaking around your front, then burying his face into your neck.

A muffled, "I can't help it," vibrates against your neck while Mike rubs his thumb along your hip.

You lean into Mike's embrace, laughing a bit at his breath tickling your neck. He pulls you closer and starts peppering kisses along your neck, the act of affection making you giggle as you lightly try to push him away playfully.

"Mike, come on." You whine, weakly pushing at his face this time, trying to turn him away.

"What? I can't kiss you, my love?" He speaks against your throat again, his smile causing his stubble to scratch your skin a little bit.

You resign, defeatedly leaving your hands to rest on his chest and sighing out of fake annoyance. He leaves quick, gentle kisses along your neck, collarbone, shoulder, and trails up your jaw. Getting closer to your lips, he brings his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, He finally presses his lips against yours sweetly, the most innocent of kisses, Mike's signature. He was pouring every ounce of his love into this one kiss, taking his time, lips moving slowly against yours. His thumb now softly grazes your cheek as he pulls away a few minutes later. He's got kind of a shy look on his face when you open your eyes.

"I got you something...for today." He whispers, glancing up from your lips to make eye contact.

"You did?" You inquire back, looking up affectionately, but feeling a slight twinge of guilt. "You didn't have to do that."

Mike gives you one final peck on the lips before pulling away. He stands up, grinning.

"Gimme one sec- " He says right before turning and walking down the hallway to your shared room.

You both had anticipated spending the day together, but you didn't expect any gifts. You loved Mike to death, but sometimes you never knew what to expect from him. All that really mattered to you was spending time together, which you didn't get to do often despite living together. If you were lucky, you got to spend time with both the Schmidt siblings, like this morning. Today was about you and Mike, though, and all you wanted to do was cuddle and talk each other's ears off until you couldn't think of anything else to say. Lost in thought, you barely notice as Mike walks back to you, holding a small object. He sits back down next to you, bringing your attention back to him. His body facing you, he smiles nervously and rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"It's not much, but..." He trails off, holding out the item and presenting it to you.

You look down and your heart melts. In his hand is a cassette tape with your name scrawled on the front. You beam up at him while grabbing the tape, and then you look at your name written in the center. You can tell Mike put a lot of effort into printing your name as nicely as his hands allowed him to, noticing also the miscellaneous tiny, slightly sloppy, hearts surrounding it. You hold the cassette to your chest and look back up at him.

"Michael Schmidt, did you make me a mixtape?" You ask playfully.

He loved hearing you say his name. You can see a light blush spread across his face as he smiles shyly, his hand still anxiously messing with the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I tried- well, it's got, like, songs that remind me of you and stuff. Songs that remind me of us," he stammers, bashfully looking down at the tape. "Do you like it?"

He looks back up at you hopefully, using his other hand to nervously pull at the bottom of his shirt. You smirk and stand up, still clutching the cassette to your chest.

"Well, let's see..." You trail off, teasingly, walking across the living room to the cassette deck near the entertainment center.

A familiar song begins to play and you smile softly now. You turn towards Mike and walk back to the couch, standing over him. He looks up at you quizzically before you reach your hand out to him.

"Wanna dance?"

He looks slightly relieved and grabs your hand, standing up and pulling you to the center of the room. One pair of hands intertwined, his other on your waist, your other on his shoulder. You stare at one another lovingly, almost sickeningly sweet the moment being shared. The tempo of the song didn't matter, you both slowly swayed back and forth, taking in the tranquility of the scene. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, rubbing his thumb over yours.

"No one's ever made me a mixtape before," you comment distractedly, most of your focus being on Mike's puppy dog eyes that you loved so dearly. "it's definitely worth however much time you spent on it. When did you get a chance to do this anyway?"

A lopsided smile appears on his face.

"A little too much time," he laughs a little. "And I put it together while you were sleeping the other night. Though, most of the time I spent was thinking of songs to put on it. That took me a few weeks."

You move the hand that was resting on his shoulder up to cup his cheek. Mike leans into your touch and closes his eyes, humming in contentment. You lean forward and capture his lips in a quick kiss, his eyes fluttering in pleasant surprise, kissing you back. You pull away, using the hand holding his face as leverage to start peppering kisses all over his face. You go from the corner of his lips, to his stubbled cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, and finally back to his lips. He smirks knowingly and opens his eyes to look at you.

"What are you doing, love?"

"Paying you back for earlier," you smirk back at him, pinching his cheek before resuming your hand's previous position. "And for the amazing Valentine's Day gift."

You take both of your hands now and place them on the sides of his face. His eyebrows furrow but he's still smiling, both of his hands now placed on your hips to keep you both balanced. You start placing soft, quick smooches everywhere now. Rapidly placing kisses all over his face, causing you both to laugh, smiling against his skin. Your laughter in unison with the music playing sounds like heaven to Mike, knowing that moments like these are rare. Though treasuring the moment, both of you feel tenderness in knowing more memories like these will happen as your merged existences face what everyone craves more of, time.

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr

Gif: charlie-eppes-blog on tumblr

[schmidtkisser]

hi there!! i just want to say that i absolutely loved your first fic, it was beautiful! regarding prompt suggestions, could you perhaps do something like the reader helping mike get a restful night's sleep following the events of the movie? no pressure ofc!!

Nightly Lullaby

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: mike has trouble sleeping due to the anxiety of dreaming the same memory he has trained his brain for over the past few years. after tucking abby into bed, you help mike finally sleep comfortably for once.

content: established relationship between you and mike, 2nd person pov, comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, love language: physical touch, insomniac mike, fnaf movie spoilers (story takes place after the events of the movie), you babysit abby, you sing them to sleep

a/n: thank u anon for the rq! this was so fun to write and was such a cute prompt to work with <3 hope i did it justice

★彡★彡★彡

It had been about a week or two since Mike resigned from being a security guard at a run-down, haunted pizzeria.

You heard all about it from Mike himself. The history of the place, the owner, animatronics possessed by the ghosts of dead children, his past with Garrett — everything. It was hard to believe at first, but the sincerity in his tone, as well as the fact that Mike wasn’t the kind of person to lie to you, led you to believe everything he claimed was true.

You could barely imagine everything he had to go through. Losing his little brother, his parents, having a difficult time finding a job, all while in the process of almost losing custody of his sister. Though he seemed to be struggling less now that it was all over, you couldn’t help but notice his struggle with sleep ever since then.

Mike always relied on a nightly routine to help him sleep up until a week ago. He told you about the dream theory, and how he’d stare at a Nebraska poster while listening to nature noises on a walkman.

The part that concerned you the most was his reliance on sleeping pills. You couldn’t even begin to describe the relief you felt when he admitted that he was ready to stop using them every night. But now, as a result of the sudden routine change and the lack of pills, he had a hard time falling asleep.

—

He leans against his sister’s doorframe, his arms folded as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. You always tuck Abby into bed after a long day, pulling the comforter over her shoulders before you give her a small forehead kiss. A little conversation exchange would occur, before she would ask a small request from you.

“Can you hum me a song again?” Abby asks, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. The simple routine following up to the nightly lullaby works like a charm. She’ll be asleep in no time. “They help me sleep. And you always do it better than Mike.”

You can’t help but scoff a small laugh at the stab at Mike, glancing over at him to see his reaction. He playfully rolls his eyes at you two, before continuing to observe you both.

You look back at Abby, who is hiding her obvious smile beneath the duvet covers. Your eyes soften at her, your hand reaching down to pet her head, before you begin to hum a simple, yet effective lullaby as she requested. She listens intently, her eyes beginning to flutter shut within the first minute or so of your hum.

Though, she wasn’t the only one listening to the sweet song. Mike’s ears tune into your delicate crooning, yawning quietly as he leans himself forward. He adores the soft rumble from your throat, how it strung itself together into a beautifully crafted lullaby. He thinks you sound angelic despite not singing a single word. He can feel his heart pick up a beat as he listens. He feels his eyes grow heavier, his head beginning to nod off as he feels himself begin to drift.

But the lullaby ends almost as quickly as it began. You pull away from Abby, her soft snores slipping out in purrs; she’s out like a light. Your lips curl into a little smile when you observe her, slowly lifting yourself off of her bed as your attention shifts to Mike, who is in the most exhausted state you’ve ever seen him in. The poor man looks like he’s about to fall over any second.

You make your way over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. The sudden contact wakes him up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as he looks at you. His cheeks flush with warmth from how close you are, not to mention the comforting feeling of your arm wrapped around him. It made him want to melt, thinking you feel much warmer compared to any blanket he’s ever used.

“Come on, Mike,” you whisper, guiding him forward. You quietly close Abby’s door as the two of you leave the room. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods, trying his best not to drag his feet across the floor as you walk him to his bedroom. He feels heavy as he leans against you, his exhaustion making itself present with every passing second.

Making your way inside the room, you close the door behind you with the heel of your foot. You walk him to his bed while you keep him close to you. The cold air nips at your skin, and you can feel Mike shiver against you too. You reach over to click his lamp on, the warm light illuminating the room. He murmurs your name softly as you both take a seat on his mattress with a creak.

“There, there,” you rub a hand up his back. Your eyes gaze down at him, noticing even the slightest few details about him. His furrowed brows, the little frown pursed on his lips, and most notably; the dark eye bags dusted beneath his eyes. The sight saddens you. He really hasn’t slept a wink in the past week.

He casts his eyes up at you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you closer. To him, it feels like having a teddy bear in his arms — something he hadn’t really felt since the loss of his childhood. The thought gets him emotional, and he attempts to hide the sudden flood of emotions welling in his face by nuzzling himself against your neck. His fingers slowly clutch onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t want to dream anymore,” he utters. “Things are fine now but, what if I dream about that again, you know? I mean, I trained my brain to think of the same memory every night.” There was a slight crack in his voice, his clutch growing tighter. “Y/N, I know it sounds stupid, but I just…”

“…It’s not stupid. None of it is.” You hush him gently. Your hand trails over to his shoulder, the other reeling him in for a warm hug. You can feel his tense body begin to calm as he takes control of his breathing. The comfort of your embrace never fails to ease him. “I can’t imagine being in your position, but sudden change is difficult. I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, Mike.”

Your tone stumbled slightly as you spoke. It came out cornier than you wanted it to, and you felt your face heat up a little in embarrassment. His silence following your words scares you into a small pit of self-doubt. Did you say the wrong thing? Was it even helpful? You nervously nibble at your lower lip, waiting for any kind of response.

Then, you feel a small, amused huff against the skin of your neck, followed by a little nod from him. The fingers clutching your shirt loosened slightly, but he still kept a grasp on you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You let out a sigh of relief, cradling Mike in your arms. Your lips curl up into a smile, pulling away from the hug just slightly to look at him again. His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, and you can even see a hint of a smile on his face.

You cup his cheek with the palm of your hand, exchanging a sudden, yet loving kiss between you two. The kiss catches him off guard, but he eases into it quickly. You savour the tender feeling of his lips, the warmth of his cheek against your palm, how he kissed back with the same amount of love in his gesture.

Oh, how he makes you melt.

You pull away at the same time, taking a breath as you look longingly into each others’ eyes. Your thumb brushes gently against the corner of his lip, your palm feeling every inch of his stubble. He leans into your touch, and you can’t help but think that he resembles a puppy with the way he looks at you. He closes his eyes, nuzzling against your palm with a yawn. Your eyes soften, beginning to realise how tired you’ve gotten also.

“Bed time?” You whisper. He nods silently in response.

You draw back from the intimate cuddles to tuck him into bed. He feels your absence, and you feel it too, despite the fact that you were just a foot away from him.

He brings himself down onto his bed, resting his head against the feather-filled pillow. You carefully pull the comforter over his body, providing him with warmth against the cold air circulating in the room. He was just about ready to pass out, but his fingers clasp at the rim of your shirt.

“Can you sleep here, with me?” He croaks, turning his eyes away from you. “Please.”

Initially, you were planning to drive home after he went to bed, but you couldn’t help but soften at his request. You were growing too tired to drive safely anyway. You click his lamp off, the room getting swallowed in darkness, with the moonlight peaking through the slits of the blinds. “I can.”

You crawl into the empty spot on the bed next to him, sinking yourself beneath the covers. His bed was far more comfortable than you could imagine, and the faint scent of him has you sinking in deeper.

He rolls over to lie on his side, facing you as his arms snake around your waist again. You do the same, enveloping him in your embrace. He rests his face against your chest with a lazy hum. As he listens intently to the beat of your heart, he thinks of a small, though embarrassing request.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

He pulls you in closer, your bodies intertwining. “Can you hum me a song?” He murmurs. “Like you do with Abby.”

The question catches you off guard. You should’ve expected it, yet it still surprised you — but not in a bad way. Deep down, you knew he felt a bit embarrassed for asking you to sing him to sleep. He is a grown man, after all, not a child like Abby.

Yet, you carry no judgement, cradling him in your arms as you accept his request. It was better than listening to a nature tape on loop, or the dead silence of the house, after all.

You begin to hum for him, your lips pressed together as you craft a tune for him to nod off to. He pays close attention to every note, to the rise and fall of your chest when you croon, to how your voice would bounce off the walls back to you two. With every passing second, he can feel his eyes grow heavier. In the comfort of your arms and the sweet sound of your song, he finally lulls off to a deep, peaceful sleep.

You can feel his body relax against yours, and his soft breaths hit against the skin of your chest as he falls into a slumber. You slowly wrap up the song, keeping him in your hold as you nuzzle the top of his head. You smile to yourself, your heart full of tenderness and warmth, whispering for one last time tonight.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

[tubatuclaws]

being sleepy eepy in mike's couch after babysitting abby the whole night. your intention wasn't to sleep, but you were so tired that you just passed out on the couch. when mike is home, he can't help but chuckle with the sight of you looking more dead than asleep, wrapped in white sheets and a little closer to fall from the couch. after admiring all of you, he kneels in front of you and get your messy hair off your forehead, pressing a soft kiss to it. he reluctantly wakes you up, asking if you want to sleep with him on his bedroom, an genuine smile apparent in his face.

[bingusbongu]

A/n: whoa!!!!! I didnt expect my sun and moon post to blow up in a day! Seriously yall- you guys are amazing- as a bew tumblr writer, it makes me really happy and want to continue! So, as a treat, i present to you......

SUN AND MOON IMAGINES!!!!!

May you enjoy your feast my children

IMAGINE you coming in early to work, clocking in just to see your favorite animatronic jester. You two were very close, and you found yourself wanting to spend more and more time with him

When you open the door to the daycare and call out to the jester, its almost immediate a response of 'SUNSHINE?!' and a happy 8ft tall robot sprinting towards you

He scoops you up into a hug, giggling and smiling with pure happiness, after you allowed Sun pick up hugs, he now picked you up every time you enter the daycare, and hugging you tightly, before letting lose and excitedly babbling how excited he is to see you, while not putting you back down on the ground. And you just listen to him list every idea he had for today and the little ones.

IMAGINE when the daycare opens, and the kids are playing and running around playing games and doing weird macaroni art. Sun couldnt keep his eyes off of you.

He would watch you tend to an argument that sparked between two kids and a toy. He would watch as you gently calm the situation down abd find a solution to make both kids happy. He dosnt even realize his rays spinning and his fans whirring until a kid points it out, and he is a flustered mess.

IMAGINE a kid walking up to you and Sun. You asked what the kid needed, and he just points up at Sun and flat out tells you that 'Mr Sun has a crush on you'

Sun becoming a stuttering mess as his fans kick in attempt to cool his system as he quickly tries to deny what the kid said, covering his mouth with his big robotic hand, as he giggles nervously

You couldnt help but giggle at the display of Sun frantically trying to get the kids from telling you that he had a huge crush on you. So, to make matters worse, you said 'oh i know, i like him too' before walking away to go deal with a macaroni art misshap

Sun standing there completely stunned as he watches you walk away. Feeling as if he completely had overheated, as his gears hummed loudly in his body and his sunrays spinning in an constamt speed

The kids wouldnt stop singing about Sun and You sitting in a tree

IMAGINE when naptime roles around, and the kids had grown tired of running around and teasing the poor daycare attendant. As they crawl into their little comfy cots in the napping corner, all snuggled into their blankets after you tucked each and one of them comfortably

as the lights flickered off, and the nightlights flickering on, Moon emerges ingo the corner with a hum. As he tries to settle the rest of the kids to bed, they beg him for a story. Moon, having no choice, grabs a childrens book from the little shelf they had and began to read to the kids

He would flip the book around so the kids could see the illustrations of the book while he reads out the words and acts out the voices, getting thekods laughing as they grow tired. Until the kids would start yawning and laying their heads down to rest

Lifting his head up from the book to make sure tge kids were okay, he noticed all of them sleeping peacfully. He was about to close the book, before he noticed you sitting infront of him with a gentle smile and your full attention on him, asking him to continue the book

He would stutter in suprise, preventing his voicebox from glitching as to not wake up the kids, and cleared his nonexistent throat to keep reading to you, looking up at you occasionally, just to see your face looking down at the book and moon. He couldn't help but feel his wires spark inside him every time you giggled at his hushed voices

IMAGINE Moon and you carefully leaving the naptime corner, so you two could talk without disturbing the little ones rest. In hushed voices, you both chat happily away while joking with one another

Moon absolutely adoring when he manages to get you to laugh at one of his stupid jokes. Admiring the smile on your face and how you grip your gut snd your other hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing to hard and keeping yoursel quiet

IMAGINE you and Moon playing a game together ad you liked to do during naptime. A simple game of hide and seek where you go hide, and moon crawls around to try and find you. The fastest he ever found you was ubder 5 minutes, because he could sense your heart pounding

Regardless, you get better abd better each time. Memorizing the play structures each time you did, and how to distract moon by pushing stuff over as a distraction for you to move poditions. You learned to keep moving and not stay in ons area for two long

But no matter what, Moon will always find you in the end, adding another win to his win streak smile. And of course, he teases the heck out of you for being third place(because Sun likes to participate)

And Moon alway snatching you out of your hiding spot and dragging you somewhere else, and youre used to it so you dont fight it

IMAGINE Moon huffing when he realized soon he should wake the kids so you and Sun could get them ready to go home, but he hates having his time with you ended.

So instead, he will sit on the floor with you as you both waited on time. His head in your lap as you pet his metal forhead in soothing circles. You dudnt know if Moon could feel it, but you still did it anyway. And, just with your touch, it makes his purrs vibrate even louder if it wasnt already. With the biggest smug grin on his mechanical mouth

IMAGINE after the Kids are woken up gently by the two of you, helping them fold up their blankets abd cots to make it all nice so its one less thing the attendant has to worry about

Moon will always grumble about not being happy that Sun gets more tims with you, but you reasure him that you always stay for awhile befoe heading home to spend time with your favorite jests

But, just a minute before the lights going out, you pressed a soft peck of a kiss on the Moon mans lips, causing him to freeze and his gears stopping for a moment in stunned silence. Before Moon could say something ot ask for more, youre already helping a kid and the lights back on

IMAGINE as Sun gives the last child to their parents, a big smile on his face as usual as the parents thank him and turn to take their kid back home with smiles on their faces.

Sun would sigh happily as he watched the family leaving, feeling a strong pain in his chest. Whipping his head around to make sure you were still there witg them. And of course, you're cleaning off the arts and crafts table He smiled in relief at the sight of you desprately trying to get glitter glue off of the table.

Before you knew it, you had arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you into another pick-up hug. Pressing your back to his face as he giggled happily. Praising you with compliments about how you were today with the kids. And of course, when you compliment him back, he gets so goddy and excited, he squeals and just hugs you tighter

Before your words came back into his mind, making his hands fidget as he held you, becoming less tighter than usual. And you noticed, asking him what was on his mind. He tried playing it off but gave up when you gave him that look

He gets all stumbly and tries ro express his words, but it only comes out as gibberish. The wirring of his fans not even helping the situation one bit. Trying to figure out how to ask you to give him a kiss like you did Moon

And thankfully for you, you almost immediately caught on and smiled softly, finding Suns actions adorable, making you giggle. Having to put your hand up and cup Suns cheek to get him to stop rambling and get him to focus on you.

Once you had his attention, you lean forward and press a kiss to tip of Suns metal lips, just as you did moon

_____________

Waaaa hope you enjoyed!!!! Sorry for my grammatically errors, i may be an American, but im not great with that

Have a good day/night!!!!!

Sun+Moon: *lovesick idiots*

Y/N: *just an idiot*